Death 2


Humans can smell cancer, just like dogs — at least some people, with some cancers. It sounds ridiculous, but I believe it to be true.

Someone close to me, the fourth in as many months, has been diagnosed with a severe case of cancer. It’s probably been there for a year, and has spread to most of the organs you can name in the lower torso.

This person was always very kind and loving. The hugs from them always felt fine, practiced. But this year, it flipped. It was like hugging a void. You felt like the edges were sticky and pulling inward towards a hole. Every time we hugged my mind raced. There was a repulsion. Not of disgust, but ominous fear. I felt like I was going to catch a disease.

I don’t believe in auras (“the distinctive atmosphere or quality that seems to surround and be generated by a person, thing, or place”). I believe we can simply smell the difference. Something is “off” – probably pheromones or a consciously undetectable chemical odor. Whatever it was, I could feel it. I’ve been thinking about it for a year. Now I know.

This person has been given a 10% chance of surviving the next year. “We’re gonna fight this.” Who? They watch TV. They don’t eat their vegetables. They don’t sleep well. You can’t do that for 40 years and get away with it.

I’m still going to try to convince them to start eating some hippie food, if for anything else but to ease the pain. CBD if they can get over the Catholicism. That fights cancer too, but who are we kidding?

Finding Out

The full story was not delivered until late afternoon. I started drinking before that. There was a sonogram appointment.

The sonographer hears the story. “We’re going over after this appointment. They didn’t tell us the details but we know something is bad.” Her reply: “I hate that. They should just tell you. When my son died in August…”

She had a 15-year-old son who had died two months ago. Suddenly, and without warning. At least we’re getting a few months.

This sonographer comes into work every day, to sonogram expecting mothers. The son she spent 15 years raising just died without warning. Every day she gets up, thinks about her dead child, then goes to see more babies. Happy, nervous mothers. She was there once


The one or two anti-natalists read this blog. They’re good at focusing on pain. So am I

Eleven decedents across two generations, and a small army of siblings, nephews, nieces, and cousins. A mother, still alive, in fact. The person with the diagnosis is the centerpiece of a large family. They are the reason we have a yearly family reunion that nears 100  blood relatives. And that’s not counting friends and church people.

The horror looms again, but this person will go out with a continuous flow of affection and adoration. It won’t be happy, but it will be comforting. They’re believers, as well.

I wonder who will insist on the family reunion next year. It will be a sad one. Several others, with less aggressive cancer, will probably be there. We might have to take a year off.

How does the anti-natalist die? Alone? Do your internet friends show up to your funeral? Maybe you guys should call each other, but what if they doxx you?

Everyone around me is dying. Young and old. Roughly the same story for everyone who ever lived. But maybe you wanted a preview? The conclusion here is the same as in Death (1), which was better-written than this unexpected sequel

In that post, Johnson of Whitecoats left a poem :

Aubade by Philip Larkin

I work all day, and get half-drunk at night.
Waking at four to soundless dark, I stare.
In time the curtain-edges will grow light.
Till then I see what’s really always there:
Unresting death, a whole day nearer now,
Making all thought impossible but how
And where and when I shall myself die.
Arid interrogation: yet the dread
Of dying, and being dead,
Flashes afresh to hold and horrify.

The mind blanks at the glare. Not in remorse
—The good not done, the love not given, time
Torn off unused—nor wretchedly because
An only life can take so long to climb
Clear of its wrong beginnings, and may never;
But at the total emptiness for ever,
The sure extinction that we travel to
And shall be lost in always. Not to be here,
Not to be anywhere,
And soon; nothing more terrible, nothing more true.

This is a special way of being afraid
No trick dispels. Religion used to try,
That vast moth-eaten musical brocade
Created to pretend we never die,
And specious stuff that says No rational being
Can fear a thing it will not feel, not seeing
That this is what we fear—no sight, no sound,
No touch or taste or smell, nothing to think with,
Nothing to love or link with,
The anaesthetic from which none come round.

And so it stays just on the edge of vision,
A small unfocused blur, a standing chill
That slows each impulse down to indecision.
Most things may never happen: this one will,
And realisation of it rages out
In furnace-fear when we are caught without
People or drink. Courage is no good:
It means not scaring others. Being brave
Lets no one off the grave.
Death is no different whined at than withstood.

Slowly light strengthens, and the room takes shape.
It stands plain as a wardrobe, what we know,
Have always known, know that we can’t escape,
Yet can’t accept. One side will have to go.
Meanwhile telephones crouch, getting ready to ring
In locked-up offices, and all the uncaring
Intricate rented world begins to rouse.
The sky is white as clay, with no sun.
Work has to be done.
Postmen like doctors go from house to house.

The one who is dying ate terribly, and slept poorly. They’re losing at least 15 years to this bad deal.

Take care of yourself, if you have the ability to do so. Some of us are too impulsive

It’s worth reminding yourself daily:
1. you’re going to die
2. you can live longer if you try.

It means taking care of your diet, sleeping, moving, socializing, and doing fewer drugs. You may also want to remind yourself of death. Darwin owned a whalebone walking stick, the end carved into a skull shape. It reminded him of death. A memento mori. “These objects remind their owners of the short time people live on earth.”

[related post : You Are What You Eat: Industrial Waste]

I got drunk yesterday, starting around noon, and alienated a handful of people on the internet, several of which are communists.

Are they coming to my funeral? Probably not. Are my children? I expect it… just so long as they don’t resent me for spending so much time with you people.

Until next time


The Cathedral Has Cancer

The Cathedral is infected. It’s a tumor.

Screen Shot 2017-11-21 at 8.28.33 PM.png

There was a limit. A threshold to be crossed. It didn’t hurt at first, so it kept going.

Cancer is tricky like that. There’s a delay. A significant one. It can take 20 years to show itself. In fact – sometimes – you’re born with it.

It’s hard to feel safe.

The Cathedral has cancer. A fair amount of it. The prognosis isn’t great.

It started a while back.

As a cancer cell myself, I lack perspective on when the Cathedral came to be, and when my kind arrived. But I know we’re here now. We might be winning.

The thing about cancer is a body catches it constantly. Every week, a cell goes rogue. It attempts to grow. If you aren’t careful, then one day you’ll miss it. The rogue cell will split and grow.

Cancer is not one thing. Not one idea. Cancer, in fact, mutates continuously. The first mutation is hard to detect. It grows, and pollutes the flesh around it. Oxygen starvation. The insane flesh creates a space in which selection pressure is increased AND mutation frequencies ^ as well. It creates a space for the rot to accelerate. Variations of the cancer emerge and die at a more rapid pace. Cancer within cancer within cancer. Rhizomic? jej

At some point, a better cancer emerges. A more malignant one. A faster-growing one. What starts from a single cell becomes a hydra head of diseases, each with its own method, own treatment.

When UR appeared, the Cathedral was forgetting to take care of itself. Standing too close to the microwave and such. Probably touching receipt paper, and trying to “go vegan” — It was a grave error. Free radicals appeared and anti-oxidants were in short supply. Many broke through.

Remission is one thing, but are you really clean? Something sparked it. And, really, there was another one from Warwick. Undetected. Considered treated. A slow burning one. Somehow, they both found themselves on the same organ. There was a synergy. Two mutational lines in symbiosis.

Today, we’re crossing another level. Stage 3 cancer. One mutation, the Alt Right, was a bit too aggressive. It did not mutate fast enough. The treatment seems to have succeeded, for now. Remission for one, but not all.

More “tricky” cancers bubble in the wake. Their treatments are exotic. The doctors forgot all about them and now it’s worse than ever. The standard treatments are unlikely to work. The new ones are considered too extreme. Can we really do that?

The Cathedral got wired up. It was the cool thing to do. Nobody knew the risks. Well, one did. A tetranoma with some brain matter in it. It saw. Did it even plant the idea in the head? It was found in the cerebral cortex when it was excised…



So the the cybernetic implants have proven to be free-radical generators in their own right. The Cathedral can’t pull them out now. They’re wired to the vital organs. There is no turning back. Meanwhile, the cancer spreads.

If a cure is coming, it will not be pleasant. While certain Killer Cells have been created: funded through disability payments, or curated rage – they fight against something new and pernicious.

The old attacks don’t work. A lot of them used to be Killer Cells themselves. They’re immune.

The research chemicals were a mistake, in retrospect. So was the Adderall. And all those SciFi books. You can only normalize so much before the biopolitically right-wing kids are touched in the head.

I say biopolitical because this is biopolitics. Some are born left, some are born right. The problem, today, is the lefty cells aren’t splitting, and the righty cells are being dosed with acid. They’re turning strange colors.

These righty guys are productive cells, if you eat your vegetables. And don’t expose them to carcinogens.

Tor and Bitcoin aren’t just Exit, they’re also cancer generators. The Silk Road really did pose a threat. Timmy Tradman wasn’t going to buy drugs from the Mexican kids. But then two transgender women made The Matrix. And then some other people made Tor. And some Chinese guys started up an LSD factory

Timmy gets dosed. It wasn’t supposed to be for him. Unexpected feedback loop. The Cathedral wants it in check.

The cancer spreads. You can try to stomp it out the old fashioned way, with your curcumin and your raw garlic. Megadose the B-12. You’ll get nothing. You can’t easily beat cancer after drinking Soylent for 20 years.

Here’s your last hope: extreme radiation, extreme chemo. A lot of “good” cells are gonna have to die. The exotics. The under-producers. They will be cut out. They have to be. If you want to make it out of this alive, Cathedral, listen to me. If you want to make it out of this alive, you’re gonna have to sacrifice everything. You’re gonna have to take it to the very brink. Lay waste to yourself so thoroughly that you won’t recognize yourself in the mirror when you’re through.

You’re turning on Hillary now. You’re outing the media creeps. You’re throwing breadcrumbs to a swarm of cephalopods that were raised in pools of your bile and recklessly prescribed drugs. They haven’t stopped and they’re eating at the walls now.

You keep standing next to the microwave. Stop! What’s in there, anyways? You know that stuff is full of endocrine disrupters, right? Holy shit you’ve got to make a change. People care about you, you know. Please. Stop.

Are you gonna step away before it kills you? Are you gonna cut them out with us?

Real Love is Empty Love


From “Days of War, Nights of Love” — Anarchists are wrong about absolutely everything, including love. Do not listen to them

Romantic love is not an important and your pursuit of it may be crippling you. Rolf Degen recently posted this illuminating study which confirms all of my biases and is therefore assuredly true.


The conclusion of the study:: if a man wants to maximize offspring count, the ideal scenario is “Empty Love” wherein the primary driver of the relationship is commitment alone.

Emotional intimacy (“closeness and warmth”) is negatively associated with # of offspring in men AND women. [Goth gf bad? Mommy gf good/?]

The key distinction between men and women is this:

The data imply that fatuous love (in women) and empty love (in men) drive reproductive success.

Fatuous love is a combination of passion and commitment

Empty love is based exclusively on commitment 

Women, in order to maximize # of offspring, need a guy they feel is committed AND really worth a f*ck. Interesting that “urge to f*ck” is not relevant in male reproduction. I will hypothesize from here.


How to Max Out Your Genetic Potential, Maybe

The world needs more smart babies. Fatherhood/Motherhood is praxis. Political views are heritable, and the social justice zealots are rapidly erasing themselves (see below).

Now is the time for you to take up the cause cé·lè·bre. YES, the world is overpopulated… with the out-group. You should definitely have kids, not them.

Header 3

I previously gave advice on How To Find A Wife, but the question of what kind remained unanswered.

My advice, before reading the study, was this: “You must find the most attractive woman that you are 99% sure will not cheat on you.” That’s real secret to happiness, in my opinion. Many young people are looking for partners that share their obscure interests and views. What they really want is commitment alone (and attraction, if you’re a woman).

Now that begs the question: Is fecundity more important than happiness? That’s a decision you’ll have to make on your own. In fact, hell, you probably are incapable of choosing.

My condition has lead me to the conclusion that fecundity = happiness, so I have little to say on this matter. Your internal math may be different. If you consider the sheer mass of horny humans / animals / amoebae that lead to your existence, it is quite easy to surmise that the reason da’tetra of existence is to Create. More. Life. The meaning of Life = Orobos logic

Screen Shot 2017-11-21 at 1.22.15 PM.png


And surmise this: pursuit of mommy/goth/bigbrain gf is probably a bad idea. You really just want someone you’re attracted to that won’t cheat on you.

The ancients knew these things. Arranged marriage is actually pretty great. Those indian couples are HAPPY. But it’s not for you, apparently.

The truth of the matter is this: probably 1 out of every 20 women your age is perfect for you. Your standards and tastes are simply catastrophically, stratospherically high. Same for you, ladies. The TV is lying to you.

So instead, you picked the exciting one. Or the hot one. Or the one that “gets” you (sociopath). Oh lord! You don’t need that stuff.

For me, it’s too late. I never got with anyone who wasn’t high on the Intimacy scale. I am a product of Indie rom-coms. The girls LARP Eternal Sunshine and the boys LARP High Fidelity.

Many of these relationships were doomed. However, if you are already in one, you can transform the dynamic into something more functional.


I had this idea, not particularly original, that “romantic love” dies around year 3 in a relationship. If you are lucky, it is replaced by something else.

[[SOME PEOPLE say we are programmed to leave in three years if no pregnancy occurs. This makes biological sense to me, and checks-out in many relationships I have observed. Bro-science tho.]]

Your partner, now pregnant or nursing a baby, is no longer your BFF+sex partner. They are a member of your team. You both went through war together… the dating… the move-in… the wedding.. the kid.

Some people see this loss of romantic love and run away screaming. They can’t take it. It was supposed to be like the movies. Why is this so hard?? Please, ladies… are you sure it’s not the SSRIs talking?

Making it to marriage/parenthood is not a simple accomplishment these days. It is like going to war. Every available member of the opposite sex is carrying a mountain of baggage and false idols. To survive this process, you must systematically dismantle all of it, or be crushed by the weight.

Could you find a hotter husband/wife? Yes, definitely. Could you find a nicer one? Yes, of course. Could you find one that has known you for 5 years and still wants to stick around? Not for another 5 years, by which point you may be unfuckable.

The reality of living with a person for more than a year should break whatever delusions you have about their perfection. It simply won’t last. That’s good. You need to get down to the truth: is this woman committed to our relationship? Everything else flows from there.

With that in mind, a village elder picking your wife for you sounds pretty good. If the girl thinks you’re hot enough, and neither of you are gonna cheat, you’re set for life. Stop complicating things.

Never trust someone under 30, especially yourself.

Boring Stuff

Likelihoods of cheating is probably the #1 for both genders to consider. Think hard on it. Don’t show your hand on the first dates. Let them feel safe enough to tell your their true sexual history. You want to look for LTRs and low partner counts. Appearance is of secondary concern.

If she has a choker necklace, or he has a man-bun, leave the table




Bad Vibes: Give Me 3 Months I’m Not Going Away


I am temporarily low on things to say. The initial explosion of ideas was thanks to excessive free-time and a heroic nicotine habit. I’m low on both now. It will take another 3 months before my dopamine pathways are back to normal human levels. Currently, I am a walking corpse… blood is beginning to trickle back in through my veins

I am seeing immediate changes. Physical contact with my wife and children now brings a vague feeling of warmth, whereas before it did nothing. How has this effected my relationships with them? One can only guess.

Early Recovery In Posts

I am having trouble writing. The last high post from Phase 1 will be this: The Pozeidon Adventure – written on the last bit of nicotine I had in the house.

I followed this with an incoherent warning about love and ego-tripping… or something. This was 3 days after truly quitting and nearly peak suffering (day 5 turned out to be the worst): Important: Dick Stopped, So I Retired At 24 | You

Finally there was the “Guide to Cybernetics” which was banging out in incoherent confusion while drunk: WHAT IS CYBERNETICS? a gentile introduction. I will often seek alternative highs when quitting anything, convincing myself they are unrelated

Back To Drug Discussion

Most drugs fuck with your serotonin and dopamine levels. Probably other stuff too. If anyone tells you “dopamine is the reward chemical” you should wisely tune-out. It’s not that simple. I will spare you that flavor of idiocy, and give you the kind you’re accustomed to here:

From years of polydrug use, you can inuit an important concept: most substances are doing the same thing —> pressing the reward buttons in your head — short-circuiting your inherent reward systems.

A father should enjoy time with his children. My time with them is frequently in pursuit of educating and observing their developing brains. The joy of simply being near them is not present. Hopefully, they did not notice too much. The common joy is returning now.


Drugs are one avenue for short-circuiting your humanity, but, obviously, there are many more. Hyper-palatable foods, hyper-pornography… film, television, consumption. You can guess them all.

Here we can arrive at a socio-chemical explanation for the Traditionalist’s thesis: these things are “degenerate” — NOT SPIRITUALLY — but biochemically. Because we are constantly dumping our dopamine/serotonin, all the good shit that holds society together starts to disintegrate. We have NO URGE TO MAINTAIN IT. We hacked out brains and fucked ourselves

We are not naturally zombies. We only appear this way now because we are doped-up. You don’t have to be a drug user: If you’re fat, you’re one of them. If you know a lot about TV, film, or music, you’re one of them. If you wear cool clothing, or drive a cool car, you’re one of them.

Our reward systems are broken more thoroughly than ever before. The effects are not spiritual. The degradation is chemical. It’s a simple malfunction. What part you of wants to find a mate? To be a good father? To do well at work? To create something? You can just as easily get high, drink a Monster energy drink, and jerk off.

This is a malfunction on a level I’m keen to call cybernetic. I am probably using it wrong. But here ouR biological programming clashes with technology. Bad feedback loops emerge (bad for the individual, anyways).

Obviously, the average person will be too stupid to thrive in these conditions. We see it happening now. The standard Traditionalist will do a relatively good job avoiding temptations, but what sort of insurance does that give their progeny? Eventually, a fair amount of your DNA will exit the gene pool.

Cold abstinence is a brute-force hack, but there are other ways. Consider this: constantly dumping your dopamine stores thorough the day is *less* satisfying than old fashioned Good Living. You will get MORE pleasure out of being a boring, sober family man in a polo t-shirt.

If you buy into this concept, you do not have to become a stoic to improve your life. You simply become a self-aware hedonist. You pursue professional accomplishment, sexual conquest, fecundity, and sentimental family time. Your joy is now your child’s joy, or your wife’s. You get to re-experience childhood through their eyes (daily), rather than by jacking up your brain with MDMA  (bi-yearly)(may cause severe depression).

Awakened consumption is hacking your hedonic drives to become the embodiment of the Traditionalist ideal.

I’m still not going to church, though. ::fedora::

NoTap Yourmember

We are currently in the midst of “NoFap November” – a yearly challenge for young men to stop masturbating. Many are feeling the power of stoically depriving themselves of pleasure. Good on them. Hopefully they can put it to good use and apply it to other areas of their lives.

There will be better hacks, down the road. With gene editing, we may be able to remove the ability of worker bees to *get* high at all. We can easily transplant asian alcohol intolerance into white people. What down-streams effects would we see? Imagine a word where nobody enjoys shitty foods, shitty entertainment, masturbation, or general loafing? What if the only thing that makes us happy is work, education, and family? Or the construction of a vast machine we can meld with?

Screen Shot 2017-11-20 at 1.20.38 PM.png


This blog will not be going away, but it will be piloted by an underperforming brain until late January. Sputtering along.

In the first week of January my family will be expanding by n+1. My hope is that sobriety will lead to more consistent writing. We will find out.

After things are settled I will start experimenting with the use of psycho-additives while writing. I’m looking now for short-acting, quick-recovery options. As it appears even benign nootropics will dump dopamine, I will have to research carefully. It will be an interesting thing to report on, at least.

The key will be to ensure a full return to true baseline after every use. That’s either extremely naive or the ideal hedonic hack.

I have greatly enjoyed this recent post from Meta-Nomad: Disintegrating Nostalgia: An Obituary for the United Kingdom and the new Nick Land post on Jacobite: INDEPENDENCE GAMES


WHAT IS CYBERNETICS? a gentile introduction

Screen Shot 2017-11-06 at 3.33.02 PM.png

Cyborg: Robocop is one, Terminator is not.
Cyberpunk: The Matrix is, Star Trek is not.

Proverbs 23

31 Do not look on the wine when it is red,
When it sparkles in the cup,
When it goes down smoothly;

32 At the last it bites like a serpent
And stings like a viper.

33 Your eyes will see strange things
And your mind will utter perverse things.

34 And you will be like one who lies down in the middle of the sea,
Or like one who lies down on the top of a mast.

34 again, in Greek:

Screen Shot 2017-11-06 at 2.09.02 PM.png

“lie as in the heart of the sea and like a navigator (kubernētēs) in a large wave.”
– (source)

κυβερνᾶν = kubernētēs = “steersman” = “navigator” = “governor”

κυβερνᾶν > kubernētēs > ~kybernētis~ > cybernetics

[K- codes for cyber]

The word existed BEFORE the “cyber-” aesthetic — before the “futuristic” cultural artifact it has since become.

Cybernetics – disappointingly for some – is an academic field of study, existing since the 1940s. But you can’t legally meme on cyberpunk without understanding this word.

My favorite definition is this:

The theoretical study of communication and control processes in biological, mechanical, and electronic systems, especially the comparison of these processes in biological and artificial systems.

Here we get to the interesting stuff.

If an ecosystem overproduces bunnies, limits arise: it can’t feed them all. The population is controlled. A natural process. Cybernetic


If /b/ fills up with shitposts, engagement declines. Cybernetic?

Geopolitical chaos drives people to Bitcoin, more people buy Bitcoin. More bitcoin= Geopolitical chaos. This feedback loops (maybe). The world is forever changed. Cybernetic?

Next Part

Signals, communications, controls, feedback – thus found in nature, computers, economy, electronics – not only the human brain. All of these systems can be examined, compared, and convoluted. Anthropomorphize the systems, dehumanize the people, experience schizophrenia without the hangover.

Here is where my understanding of the Accelerationist analysis of “Capital” begins to congeal: Capitalism behaves… cybernetically… like an organism… meta-organism… ecosystem… a boot stamping on a human face…

More definitions:

1. The branch of science concerned with control systems in electronic and mechanical devices and the extent to which useful comparisons can be made between man-made and biological systems.

2. The comparative study of organic control and communication systems, as the brain and its neurons, and mechanical or electronic systems analogous to them, as robots or computers.

3. The comparative study of complex electronic devices and the nervous system in an attempt to understand better the nature of the human brain.

Neu Romancer

William Gibson wrote the book (Neuromancer) that made cyberpunk a thing. Philip K Dick wrote “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep” which then became Blade Runner

Bounty-hunter Rick Deckard signs on to a new police mission in order to earn enough money to buy a live animal to replace his electric sheep, seeking greater existential fulfillment for himself and his depressed wife, Iran.

Henry Dorsett Case is a low-level hustler in the dystopian underworld of Chiba City, Japan. Once a talented computer hacker

These (and probably more) brought cybernetic explorations to Sci Fi — culture regurgitated these stories into the memepunk thing we have today.

It is a good time to take a step back. The 3rd wave of cyberpunk fiction appears to be rising. Hopefully some will crawl back into the murky depths from w’hence it arose.

Hey, is 4chan cyberpunk?

Cybernetic Research and the K- Codes 

“Schizophrenia is a serious mental illness that interferes with a person’s ability to think clearly, manage emotions, make decisions and relate to others.”

But what if you’re doing it on purpose?

1. Kabbala

Screen Shot 2017-11-06 at 3.17.27 PM.png

[wikipedia: Kabbalah]

2. Gematria

Screen Shot 2017-11-06 at 3.13.33 PM.png

[wikipedia: Gematria]

3. The Cyber-conNection

4. Hey kid, try this

Screen Shot 2017-11-06 at 3.50.35 PM.png


Important: Dick Stopped, So I Retired At 24 | You


I am on my fifth day of nicotine withdrawals and conditions are continuing to decline. I had written a long post about a series of sexual failures that lead to me “fixing my life.” The conclusions are trite, the activities triter. In my present state, only my physical possessions add credibility to claims of “fixture” – and this blogpost will surely discredit any remaining faith you have.

And another thing: It has become clear: the majority of these blog scribblings: are: ego-stroking, clowning, and deeply disingenuous non-content. Playing a character > judging response > refining output. We (YOU, ME) can do better than this. Model-C is a truth seeker. He’s being rolled-out right now. We’re on the cusp of a breakthrough here.

While all of these stories within are “true,”  they are not illustrative of anything – there isn’t a theme. The mechanism has nothing to teach you. It only sucks you in. The deeper you go, the less there is.

Much of this is rehash: The ideas previously explicated by Brett Easton Ellis… ie:

Patrick Bateman: There is an idea of a Patrick Bateman; some kind of abstraction. But there is no real me: only an entity, something illusory. And though I can hide my cold gaze, and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable… I simply am not there.

I am not trying to be edgy. ™

I am not even arguing that we are all psychopathic. I am not arguing anything in particular except that you need to realize the following: I once performed a role in the IRL space, and it was disingenuous. I was not an exciting, self-immolating wild man. I was not even a measured nerd, intentionally playing that person. I was a walking, talking ape with humble goal of impregnating every available female on earth. Everything else is a lie

A previous character (Model-A) was developed in pursuit of this goal, but had proven to be deficient. I need to return some videotapes. The character was scrapped and replaced with a secondary model.  The second model now references Model-A for social validation, “credibility”, and “interesting-ness.”

Model-A now writes to you from beyond the grave. Read between the lines, though: it wants out, and the one in the driver’s seat is in fact less credible. The loveably transparent Richard Hell-LARPer is an NPC. A non-threat. If your characters possess a modicum of awareness, he is safe to be around.

Regardless, Model-A is now a viable niche product. This should be alarming to you. If you have read this blog with a glimmer of excitement, or voyeuristic “aliveness” – you should question those feelings. Drug abuse is not anything. Humor is what? Obfuscated sobbing

The mechanisms that birthed this creature years ago now work to commodify (and perhaps spread) the noxious behaviors of the aberration. I implore you to see it for what it is.

I take the coffee and the words flow and your data is mined. The GoogAI can’t quite parse this content today, but will some day. Meaning begins to blur and the space around your ears feels cloudy. Premature deathbed navel-gazing — the author is an unreliable narrator mining the fractured amemories of an alcoholic unreliable narrator.

 I woke up in a strange apartment. WOW. I woke up in a strange bathtub. WOW. I didn’t wear a condom. WOW. A bunch. SEXY. When you googled her name, a mugshot + assault charges showed. WOW. SEXY. I’m pretending that’s sexy. WOW. Muh duck. WOW. Punk song. WOW. sneering crying sneering crying no u no u no u no u unfollowed unsubscribed mute

As the distinction between character and author begin to blur, an (even) ugly[er] truth is revealed: the vast majority is artifice. These are the musings of a dopamine negative mind. It is either:

A. stripped of delusions
B. misfiring

they all left me there. “This is your apartment?” Yeah. “No blanket?” called out of work■■■■■\ this time it was just the two of ■■■■■■■drinking beer in the park. Discriminating [key term]■■■■■■■ rarely use protection. No■■■■herpes. But HPV■■■■■several types of cancer. Everyone has ■■■■■Despite the intimate of it all■■■■■ failing to perfor■■■finale ■■■■■transparent,■■■■■passive-aggressive. ■■■■spend the night■■■■■■■■■■■■■Months later ■■■■■, and this one really hurt. ■■■■■■chakra tattoos  math degree,  motorcycle.■■■■■■■mugshot came up… assault charges.■■■■s perfect.

■■■ cheat ■■■■with her. ■■■■ Non-verbal■■■ “I’m glad I bought these skinny jeans.”■■■the host came  kiss in front … “that’s ■■■ between the mattress and the w■■■ into the■■■ dick ■ ■■peed. ■■■ transgression s■■■romantic.

■■■designated ■■■■ drunk■■■■t home eventually.

A■■ get it up.■■■■ gone so ■■■kind of love, a■■■■■there’d be time.■■■■ 8 hours away.■■■■■ again?■■■■ next  ■■■■■ planning ■■■great. stayed i■■■■called ■■■■ dumped.■■■■e new girl ,,easiest ■■■■second weekend t■■■nothing ■■■er self-esteem■■■■8 hours away,■■■■■ now. ■■■ ■■■t■■■ dying ■■extremely ■■■■, both.■■■lization hi■■rything a■■■ anyways. Th■■■■■ink more a■■■

■■ bought ■ved.■■nights■■■ bar■■■ interest, t■■■ spite of■■e occasiona■■an have it all.

asdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdf in the shower. asdfasdfasdfasdflaughed because I was sad about i▣▣▣▣



▣▣▣▣ tonight only. “Sorry, I’m on a date with▣▣▣▣▣▣▣…” Fellas,


Early Retirement Extreme


….▣▣▣▣▣▣… and we’d do yoga while watching Entertainment Tonight with Mario Lopez. It was a s▣▣▣▣  [[REDACTED]]


The Pozeidon Adventure: Cheat Codes for navigating the Collapstruction of the Vampire Castle


A trite overview of the situation :

Our parents
* Had it better than any generation in history
* Were raised on home-cooked meals
* Mom stayed home and gave them attention
* College was cheap. A fraction of what we pay
* A degree (in anything) would land you a good job
* Corporations kept you for decades
* Stock portfolios and homes increased 4x in value
* Retirement was a human right

And they..
* presided over the outsourcing of jobs…
* …leading to the underclass’s opiate-drenched collapse
* paid illegal immigrants to tend to their homes
* fed us frozen pizza and fruit juice, no cooking
* hyper-industrialized prison, healthcare, education, housing
* bought plastic junk and used toxic cleaning supplies
* triloscan soap, olestra chips, phthalate shampoo
* prescribed antibiotics liberally, nuking our gut flora
* gave children Ritalin, Prozac, Wellbutrin, Klonopin…
* …pink slime, lead fillings, accutane, Snapple, Percocet
* got divorces and bought sports cars


This era of prosperity and cultural disintegration has left our generation traumatized. We were raised by the TV, swimming in endocrine disruptors. Our bodies were built with corn-syrup and cereal grains. Malnourished from birth and mentally malformed – they patched us with psychiatric drugs, before our brains had settled. The McMasions didn’t allow for socializing, so we played Xbox instead of going to church. Hardcore porn came around before Dad learned how to use the mouse. We stole pills instead of beer, because they were everywhere. The divorce made it easier to get away with things. Mom liked wine and her new boyfriend is kind of a weirdo.

This upheaval is having a massive attrition rate. The signs are emerging, though the magnitude of the problem has yet to reveal itself. Many will go childless. Few will retire. Depression is rampant.

The situation is evolving. At every turn, new hurdles emerge: housing market collapse, social media, divisive propaganda, precision marketing, legal marijuana, 1080p porn, 4K porn, and 3D porn. Sex dolls, “research chemicals”, Instagram lifestylism, Tinder, Occupy Wall Street, Tax “reform”, 401k “reform”, housing shortages, green-card Visas, education inflation, sub-prime mortgages, sub-prime auto loans. Rising gas prices, Obamacare, identity theft, socially required tattoos and piercings, high partner counts, drug-resistant STDs, Soy-based meal replacements, veganism. Salmon is $19/lb and was swimming in a pool of heavy metals last week.

The sea is dying, the land is dead, the Pope is gay, and they’re importing the same people they dropped bombs on last week. The news was never real, but now we know it. The internet has shown us exactly how poor and deprived we are. Every reaction is commodified. Socially and politically. I am Neo. I am Tyler Durden. Get a house. Find a wife. Trainspotting 2 is on BlueRay for $35. They remade Blade Runner for me. I listen to ironically downtuned 80s cocaine-pop rehashed by suicidal NEETs, who are cooler than me. A gay rapist pedophile played your dad in the acclaimed film “American Beauty” – but the Nazi (you) was actually the gay guy in that story. One drove a car into another lost child in Virginia. This week an atheist shot up a church, apolitically. A Boomer did it in Las Vegas, which was surprising. Autotune in country music is a crime against humanity.

Mad Offline

The rage is justified, but misplaced and naive. You expect too much of people because TV told you they were good, and they aren’t. I urge you to sublimate your rage into a driving thirst for revenge, and then neo-survivalism.

The tools have emerged, only to be immediately obscured by commodification: it’s Paleo, Stephan Guyanet, minimalism, simple living, “tiny houses”, shitcoins, “learning to code”, ironic ethno-nationalism, NoFap, no shampoo, CrossFit, radical anarcho lifestylism, internet friendships, 23andMe raw data translated into illegal medical advice.

Our generation has been dropped back into the jungle. Selection pressures are increasing. Without a thorough analysis of your conditions, abilities, and available forms of escape: you will suffer and perish.

A fantastic number of us will never be able to retire. Not on our own money, at least (they will come for yours, in the end). We will raise more cats than children. There will be more shootings, more suicides, more ODs. Your only chance is to carefully plan — look for cracks in the system that you can squeeze through, and don’t stop moving.

If you get the degree, you’d better check the job market projections. Your Liberal Arts degree might still get you a job, but it will suck. You’ll move to the only place with jobs, where you can’t afford to own a home, much less raise a child.

They’ll lie to you about the world, and about your importance. They’ll turn your ego into a monster, and dope it up when the doubt creeps in. You need to rid yourself of all of it. You need to assess what you can do. You probably can’t code, and you definitely will not be famous one day.

You must embrace boredom: in the kitchen, in the gym, in the books, in the chores. You must find the job that won’t disappear. Moral purity is suicidal now. The government job: a safe place to be. Slow collapse is not something you can stop. Do not be ashamed to push others aside while you jump in the lifeboats – they’d sell your children to China for a taste of the good life.

Bitcoin saved a few of us already. It might crush more, in the end. Consider your options. The stock market is not a game to play, but an Index to purchase. Do not take advice from Bloomberg, you can’t win. AI is buying the stocks and leeching money from your 115 IQ portfolio.

The warmachine is being automated, but the complex still grows. It’s a job program now, and you probably won’t die. You’ll be too tired to jerk off in boot camp. Better than flipping burgers on heroin, probably.

Genetic Game Theory 

Within the collapsing machine, pockets of air remain. There are safe-rooms and crawl-spaces. Hedonic maximization is “literally GOAT” and the answer might astound you: a marriage and kids make you happier than authentic Ethiopian cuisine. And, even without that — early retirement, financial escape — nearly as respectable, and a viable path for those without the urge to reproduce.

If you take the path towards family, the asylum’s singles market is daunting. With or without genetic gifts, autistic deep-dives into psychosexual dynamics, demographics, and “PUA” is recommended for both sexes. There are plenty of fish in the sea but a vast majority are infertile and insane mutants. Settle for one with three eyes, not eight.

There is math to be done, for the breeders and the HGTOW exiteers.

First, for the breeder:


You should also consider joining a evangelical cult or orthodox community. But keep the kids away from the church leadership, if you know what I mean.

If you don’t want to do that math, go simple. Do this:
How To Make Money In The Stock Market

Or even this:

Every escape tunnel will collapse. Solutions will emerge only to be swamped and ruined. Again and again. We have to keep looking, forever, and teach the kids to do the same. Forces beyond your control are tightening the noose. Bug-out, exit, lie, steal, and scheme. Some of your code might make it to the point where it can be frozen, applied, and launched into space. Your ancestors fought and died under worse conditions. “Our war is a spiritual war” although evidence is drying up re: souls, the self. Perhaps you mechanisms are meant to make it. Maybe reading this crap is the crossroads. The weirdo twitter accounts save you a year or two, and meme you into neo-survivalism. Post-ironically.

… the chosen people had a 4,000 year head-start in this race. Now they’re outbreeding at 60%… maybe it’s time to buy in? Hate those guilty-by-association … their proximity to success, if you want, but the genocide is just getting started and the catallaxy doesn’t abide by any eldritch protocols

Is this praxis? Should we spread the gospel? Your striving might only make things worse for others. You maintain a structure that cannot hold. Anti-praxis strikes again. But you die knowing you tried, rather than fapping away in the corner of your insane asylum. Do that if you want, really. I am programmed to love my in-group, and you’re in it. This soapbox is tracking 200 consumer metrics, and the product is you

The center cannot hold, my little ponyboy.
Queer anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The cum-dipped tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

horror and disappointment


There’s a big TV in every room, and they’re all on. You’re high on benzos and weed. You dream about the day you make it big. It’s gonna happen.

There’s always traffic, even at 2:00 AM. You can hear it from the back yard.

You only leave the house to spend money. For miles: endless strip malls. You can drive an hour and still be in it. “What else do I need?”

The restaurants are all chains. You have your favorites. You think Japanese food is rice, chicken, and teriyaki sauce. You don’t eat fish, because of the texture. They started giving you Ritalin at 8.

On the freeway, you see serious traffic accidents occur once every few months. Metal on metal. You think this is normal. The illegal immigrants have been given driver’s licenses. When they hit you, they won’t be deported. It’s considered very rude to beep your horn.

It is room temperature outside and there are no seasons. The spaces along the roads are lined with palm trees. People say they are special. A fungus is killing them. They’ll be gone soon.

You are just getting started. 28 and living with mom. A very young man. You are going to college (again), while working retail. Mom doesn’t want you to leave, so she does your laundry for you. You passive-aggressively hurt her if she forgets to make breakfast. “I love you, drive safe.”

The average family income is $80k, but anything under $150k means you’re treading water. A two bedroom home in a good neighborhood starts at $700,000. The owners bought them before the boom, and will be giving them to their kids. Your parents are adamantly against the construction of new housing.

You’ve got a $70 haircut and $350 in the bank. You will never break $50k yearly. There’s a tent city down by the drainage canal.

On weekends, you go out. Drunk driving is risky, because losing your license means total isolation. Best to smoke weed and take pills.

You work out every day. The girls like you, because you’re strong and have a $70 haircut. They are easy to sleep with if they have their own apartments. They think your parents have money and want you to get them pregnant. One lied about being on the pill, but then miscarried because she doesn’t eat. You are unaware of this. The relationships last four months on average.

You won’t have kids or a retirement if you stay here, but you don’t realize that. You think this is normal. Something is gonna change. Your parents did fine. Things will work out. Your friend is in rehab.

Mom likes Disney a lot. You do too. You had your first kiss at Disney Land. Secretly, you have the Little Mermaid soundtrack on your iPod. You listen in the car when the world has got you down. “Elliot Rodger? Wasn’t that a school shooter or something?”

You went to New York City once. It was very loud and dirty. You stayed in your friend’s apartment for most of the visit, ordering Chinese take-out. She tried to get you to eat Indian food, but it was too spicy. She did not sleep with you, and you will never see her again.

You go hiking once a year. “They say these are some of the most beautiful hiking trails in America.” Your hiking outfit cost $150 and you spent 3 hours driving around shopping for it. Your bros notice. Victory.

Your father has a ponytail and wears sunglasses all the time. He donated money to an environmental organization. They’re petitioning the state to pull pension investments out of big oil. The economists told them it would have no effect, but they did it anyways. “It’s going to send a big message.” He’s stoned when you meet him for coffee.

You have nothing to guide you, except the TV shows. They film nearby. The whole world watches. In social situations you emulate characters played by Ryan Gosling or Robert Downy Jr. It feels good. You are cool and fun to be around.

You have new neighbors. A family from the East Coast. They’re escaping the big city. They remark on how clean and convenient the suburbs are. You are annoyed by them.

They will get their resume upgrades and be gone in two years. They know a bad deal when the see one.

Maybe they should start smoking weed. It will be fully legal next year. You’ll be able to buy some really strong stuff, right down the street.

Teleonomy: Capitalism Is Alive and Will Grind Our Bones Into Dust


Every day, things are getting worse. Your town, eaten alive. You choose to rot at the screen or move to the city.

Billydean Jessup and Tamal Afrika X are out of work. The Asians will do it for less. Marriages dissolve. Children head off to prison or chase an early death.

In the cities, white socialists stake out the few brown neighborhoods worth living in. The yuppies are eyeing property. The hipsters have fertilized the soil – an atomized forest will bloom here soon. May a thousand Amazon Prime boxes sit safely upon these doorsteps.

Capitalism discovers our happy inefficiencies and corrects them viciously.

> “Real perpetual motion has never been tried.”

You will be given something if you scream – enough to keep you from rioting. Merciful erasure for the sensitives, permanent underclass status for the fecund. Netflix and chill your way out of the gene pool, comrade. Anti-natalism, SSRIs, identity mods – this is what Capital chose for you. Pretend it was your idea.


The highbrows on both sides see the writing on the wall: the only way around is through.

Capitalism Was Destined To Win

The popular conception of capitalism as “an economic system that we choose” is wrong.

On the forest floor, organic systems vie for dominance. The weak are weeded out, the strong survive. Kingdom, Phylum, Species – none map their own evolutionary pathways. The outcomes simply occur, in obedience to natural laws.

Likewise, clusters of humans (races, nations, and individuals) inclined towards capitalistic behavior… win. Those humans driven towards communalism and egalitarianism thus fail. To fight against the current is to fallow, then wait for your inevitable exploitation.

Are We Intelligent?

On the forest floor, intelligence emerged. The insects ate the leaves, the lizards ate the insects, the beasts ate the lizards, man lit a fire and cooked their meat.

At what point did biological life become intelligent? When does an insectoid drone become more than a small, thoughtless machine? The materialist answer: n/a

Life as a swirling chemical reaction – the peculiar behavior of dead matter.

What we call intelligence instead appears to be a sort of increasing complexity of behavior. Your actions are not your own, they merely feel to be so. Your are a block of dead matter. The only detectable difference between your body and a mound of dirt is that you walk, talk, and scheme.

Is this intelligence as you understand it?


Capitalist Realism { ∅ }

If you accept this materialist view, the next step is to apply it to capitalism.

Capitalism did not chose to exist, nor did we chose it. The person who planted the first seed in Mesopotamia was taking a step towards it. An act of greed? A civilization bloomed.

In the cold war, Capitalism squared off against Communism and won. Natural law chose the winner. The stronger competitor gains market share. Survival of the fittest. Meta-evolution.

Does the CEO enforce capitalism? Does Soros, Bezos, Mercer? No. They simply act within it. You could murder one of them, or give one enough LSD to embrace Maoism, but what does that get you? An immediate replacement, less susceptible than his predecessors. Capital continues to barrel forwards.

Capitalism devoured your small town. It took your father’s job. It bombards you with suffering. There is nothing malevolent about it. Capitalism is just there. It was destined to be.

Capitalism Is 

Here we arrive at the word of today: Teleonomic.

A definition:

Teleonomic (i.e. programmed) behavior occurs only in organisms (and man-made machines) and constitutes a clear-cut difference between the levels of complexity in living and in inanimate nature [i.e. they are “emergent properties” of living systems, not present in the non-living materials of which living organisms or their artifacts are composed] (source)

Nausea is overtaking me now.

We, the biologic, are an emergent property of matter. Capitalism, the ineffable thing, is an emergent property of us.

To descend further into the abyss: intelligence, however defined, is an emergent property of the universe. Evidence continues to mount.


“Artificial Intelligence” 

Artificial. Intelligence.

Within the terms, our delusions are laid bare. An “artificial” “intelligence” is poised to make decisions for us. To erase more inefficiency. To increase complexity.

We want it to be more like us

We’re worried it’s going to hurt

If I have not driven this home enough: You don’t get to escape. Biological and technological “intelligence” are one and the same. Your dreams of __________, your belief in _________: all amount to ______________.

The Sociopath + How to find a wife


Your future wife is going to appear one day. You will fuck it up and die alone.

You never get practice, so you won’t know how to speak to her. It’s not like in the animes. She isn’t coming over. People need to be coerced.

There Are Horny Singles Available In Your Area – but you are disinterested. They are too homely. They don’t listen to cloud rap or read Evola.

You are waiting for The One, but you’ll mess it up again.

I did this too. Then, an old acquaintance popped back into my life.


If a sociopath wants to be your friend, you will enjoy the experience. Phone calls increase. Everything you say is funny and clever. “Dude, you’re like, insane, bro. You wanna come over and smoke?”

His entire persona was a lie. He wasn’t getting his PhD like he said. He was gambling all day. He drove strange cars across the country, trunks full of something. Nobody figured it out until the end.

He needed social validation and I wanted to party. The market connected us. He made it happen, and tricked me into leaving the comfort of the computer screen 4 or 5 times a week.

His other friends were people that he met in public. He charmed them all. Black teenage drug dealers, art students, 50-year-old bums, businessmen, beautiful girls who did heroin and sold LSD… he knew these people.

Our nights were spent at bars or drinking in the park. We were regulars. The bartenders would get us high in the back, or let us drink after closing hours

Sometimes there were also bong hits on a millionaire’s balcony, hipster parties full of pretty girls, and quiet nights doing MDMA and playing the drums in the living room. It was lots of fun.

Then he stole his roommates’ identities, taking money directly out of their bank accounts. Faked a robbery and pawned their laptops.

We all figured it out together. His girlfriend is crying now. He’s coming over. He’s telling a different story every time he enters the room. He’s trying to separate us. Face is emotionless. We’ve got the receipts in our hands. It doesn’t add up.

All of the “crazy girls” who had shown up over the last month, screaming about their money…

He was gone. His stern uncles showed up later to hand over thousands in cash so that we wouldn’t call the police. We called his friends and gave them what they were owed. The grand finale.


A sociopath is an alien intelligence. Without human hangups, it absorbs information and reacts, more akin to a machine than a person. We apes are transparent — how complex a web can it weave before we figure out it isn’t one of us? The sociopath does what it is programmed to do, and it will lift you up, if that is useful to it. Be advised though: they will fuck your girlfriend/boyfriend, given the chance.

I should mention this, as it is key to your wife hunt: This sociopath got laid. A LOT. On the surface, it made no sense, as he was unremarkable: balding, average height, nasal voice, and smelled bad often. Yet he was always sleeping with a new hot girl. Sometimes two in the same day. He would bring them around. That part was real.

He met these girls in public. One of them lost their cat. He helped look for it. Got her number. The other was just like, uh, sitting there on a park bench. Number. It’s almost like he just walked around… looking for women. What a concept.

Now keep this in mind: A man with no money can pretend, for over a year, to be a very cool PhD student, do tons of drugs, gamble all day, and fuck 20+ beautiful women. But he had nothing. He couldn’t name a cool band. He didn’t read books. He was a NEET. It was all FAKE, yet he got more living done in a month than some do in a lifetime.

What this goes to show is that you can manipulate the social reality around you, even if you have nothing to offer people. .

You, I promise, are more of a catch than this guy. You are better than him – or, at least, not as evil. More husbandly. Why are you sitting at home, denying some sweet girl the chance to meet you? A little bit of sociopathy goes a long way


He taught me to observe, rather than space-out. “I like to watch people” and “I listen to people. Strangers on the train. To learn about them.” Huh… you’re weird…

“You like that girl?” yeah. “Well go talk to her.” I dunno she’s with her friends. “Dude, you could fuck that girl, tonight. She looks corny as shit. You are cool.” man I just wanna drink my beer … she seems too nice “you pussy”

“I almost pulled it off.” what? “fucking three girls in 24 hours.” Really? “yeah, but I did do it in 36…”

Wandering Revenant

When the sociopath went AWOL I was like a lost puppy.  My drinking habit had gone from “serious problem” to “actual alcoholic” so I needed to go out.

I wandered the streets alone, running into other lost friends of his. “Man, can you believe this shit?” I needed excitement again. So, I did like the sociopath did: talk to strangers.

Who gives a shit? The homeless guy is kinda cool. The girl is weird, but it’s fine. There is nothing better to do. Why not go on a date with any girl with a pulse? It’s better than spending the night on /b/. The screen has lost its pull (no smartphones at the time).

Power moves

It was packed. A once-in-a-lifetime show. Three songs in, and still nobody was moshing. It was awkward. I had arrived there alone, and stood in the crowd.

Yes, this was a tremendous musical event, and nobody was moving. The front-man was unhappy. How is this happening?

At the start of the fourth song, slightly terrified, I started shoving everyone around me. I don’t know these people. Beers were spilled, but it worked. The dancing continued for the rest of the night and only one person wanted to fight. I felt a power rising inside me, as silly as that might sound. I was only 23.

You have the power to control people, rather than to passively observe. It is not about giving commands, but sparking a chain of events. Normal people do this without thinking. Unfortunately, you need to learn through trial and error.

One weirdo can start a party. He can set the mood for 400 people with a single action. My sociopath friend created a social circle around himself. You too can manipulate the social fabric around you, for better or worse.


Observe the next conversation you have with friends. Even a group DM if that’s the best you can do.

Notice that a single comment sparks an entirely new chain of conversation. Instead of sperging out (spewing facts) try massaging the social fabric.

Did your comment steer the conversation in a good direction? If not, massage in the other direction. Pass the ball to funny guy. Set him up for a home run. Watch it all play out. You are in the driver’s seat. Note who else is there with you. Push the conversation where you’d like it to go.

Now you’re playing with sociopaths.


Back to the main issue here: Your future wife.

What you need to do is start practicing. Not just going on OkCupid and messaging everyone with a pulse, but also leaving your house and talking to people.

Talk to strangers at the bar. Go explore. Move to the city, maybe. What you need to do is seek out people-experience. Imagine you are grinding for XP in your favorite RPG.

Go to the grocery store, talk to the girl who is picking out apples. Say “Hi”. No pick-up lines.

Now, observe. Read her response. It will probably be neutral. You are a friendly weirdo at the grocery store. Okay. File that away. Keep talking to people. Talk to guys too. Talk to everyone.

Eventually you will get to the point where you can simply make eye contact and know if she will say Yes. It will save you so much embarrassment.

Note when things are awkward. Learn how to get a positive response. Learn who will give you a positive response. Find a niche and expand from there.

On the dating sites, look at her pictures first, and guess what she’s into. Now read the profile. Were you right? Get better at this. It is important.

Another important trick: the sociopath always thinks before he speaks. Pause before responding to people. That 0.5 second gap between your words and theirs makes all the difference. Think about how your words will play out. Massage the conversation in a positive direction. Do this constantly.

If you go out a lot, things will happen. People will talk to you. This is especially true if you look like someone who wants to have fun. Do not close yourself off. Aim as low as you need to get positive responses.

Talk to the old man. A cute girl might know him too. She might show up. If you have charmed him, you will be introduced. His stories are good enough. Become a nihilistic anthropologist of the mundane. Every person has at least one good story.


Shedding your shell is the first step. The second is to quit the porn and lower your standards. You should be going on a date with every girl who is interested, even if you aren’t. If she has one redeeming quality, take her out for food. You might be surprised.

Do not try to impress, try to make the night fun for yourself. You don’t have to be evil. If it is morally questionable for you to go further, don’t do it. If you don’t care, well, then..

This is practice for the big game. When the She comes around, you will be ready. This is also how Chad has been doing it all along.

Chad is an idiot, but handsome. Women come to him. He wears cool clothes for the ego trip. He doesn’t even need them.

Chad sleeps with women who present themselves to him. He is not looking for anything more. He can barely function, but everyone gives him the benefit of the doubt. Chad will go on so many dates he will have no anxiety about it. It will be like riding a bike to him. Sex too. Not a single conscious thought required. Eventually, some chick will lock him down.

You need synthesize this method. Pull it down to your weirdo level. Nerd Pimp.

Go on bad dates, just for the experience. Eventually, you may find yourself dating several questionable women at once. This is where you stop being a weirdo and start feeling confident.

Did you notice I mentioned nothing about self-improvement? Just lower your standards until you are fielding multiple women. That’s where you set your baseline.

Pimp Nerd

Now you are dating just like the TV people, and it’s getting boring. You want something better. These women are pretty strange and messed up (like you).

Start doing the self-improvement thing. Start lifting. Start reading Boomer Bill’s Daily Paleo blog. Stop playing video games and get a hobby worthy of conversation. Get a better job. Read a book. You’re getting attention now anyways, what else is there to do?

Do not settle at this point.

The dates getting better. Your friends are teasing you for being a sleaze. Continue asking out strangers while keeping an open mind (re: age, social clan, income level).

At some point, Wife will show up.  Now you’ve had practice. You know how the first date should go. You know when to kiss. Ta da. You made it.