If the months between high school and college represent a budding sunrise of emerging freedom, the summer between graduate school and real life becomes your last chance at tasting it; time to get sick on Halloween candy because tomorrow is the start of winter. I spent these months on a friend’s couch playing “Mario Baseball” (2005)- I regret nothing.
Video games are meant to be played socially. The long extinct shopping mall arcades of the 1980s were social hotspots buzzing with life as teenagers would crowd around machines watching the cool kids do their thing amongst the flashing lights and buzzing sounds of games like Q*Bert and Centipede, telling their own kind big fish tales of forgotten high scores; “…if only they’d left the Frogger machine plugged in, then you’d see…”
Consoles were originally packaged with two controllers for this very reason- video games were meant to be played together. In fact, a two-player mode was so important to the programmer who ported “Pac-Man” (1982) to the Atari 2600 that he mistakenly sacrificed game quality and playability to accommodate the game’s social aspect, producing an atrocious home-version and ultimately killing the market until the rise of the Nintendo Entertainment System in 1985- a console which also came packed with two controllers.
If the “red pill” is to represent difficult and uncomfortable truth, understanding the truth about women, or sex realism, must be the foundation of all other knowledge, and must be mastered in order to have a genuine, authentic, and accurate understanding of the world.
It’s also the most difficult truth to swallow — but why?
Modern black magic is understanding human nature. In a world of unreality where people are unconscious to the invisible currents that guide them, having the ability to identify these forces can allow you to tell a tremendous amount about someone from a few scant details. Street hustlers and psychics have exploited this idea for years, because it works; we are not unique snow-flakes, we are predictable animals.
Take a family where the mother is much prettier than her daughters- what does that tell you? The mother traded her beauty to marry a genetically-inferior beta-male with money and ended up with snaggled halfie daughters. The woman does not respect her husband-she resents him- and this unhappiness manifests itself in perpetual anger and passive-aggression where she subtly attempts to destroy all those around her.
Beta-dad entered the relationship with the best intentions, unconscious to the fact that he was defeated from the outset. After years of his confidence being eroded through his demon-wife’s poison drip of emasculation, he fluctuates between anger and shame, and thinking that maybe giving more, listeningmore, and being more empathetic may turn it all around and fix the relationship… All while his wife longs for the memory of the last big-dicked real man who made her tingle.
While I haven’t seen Christine in years, every time we catch up the conversation ends with her saying something like, “well, as long as you’re happy…” She doesn’t understand why I’ve never left the suburbs, nor have I had any real desire to do so. Even more troubling to Christine, the idea that I may be happy with this.
For a conscious man wading through the muck of modern treachery, yes, I am fairly happy. Living in the city never appealed to me; there is nothing better than a quiet summer night. Everything I need is a car ride away, and since I was never really much of a drinker, I rarely had to face the quandary of getting home from a bar.
But, like always, there was more at stake than what Christine was capable of understanding. We may as well have been playing out roles on a reality TV show- not exactly scripted, but loosely scripted. It was hardly a genuine conversation. Even if neither party felt the overt grasp of invisible puppet strings guiding our interaction- our thoughts, our feelings, our desires, our identity- they are deeply present regardless of our being conscious of them.
Understanding the presence of these puppet strings is what separates the conscious man from the unconscious man. Understanding the depth of their control dictates the level of consciousness. And understanding the true power of these influences can make a man omniscient.
“A Nightmare on Elm Street” (1984) is about suburban invasion, and Freddy Kruger is a rapist. Suburban horror was a response to the 1950s idealism of “darn good people living in darn good neighborhoods.” While normally this type of cultural critique would annoy me, Progressives attempting to deconstruct a system that works for the majority, the foundation of horror is about the inescapable.
The suburbs, on their own, will not solve the problems of a damaged culture nor will they filter out the dangers inherent in reality; the suburbs are not walled, nor are they caged. Danger can find its way, and most particularly when the foundation of the family has been turned toxic.
Freddy Kruger is the Progressive response to Dracula. While Dracula played on the beta’s anxiety of being usurped sexually by the handsome and powerful Alpha, after the Sexual Revolution this anxiety was pushed below the surface (yet is still very real). If a woman has no restrictions on her sexuality, and realizing that sexuality in terms of selective promiscuity has become what defines the fully realized woman, fearing the powerful Alpha seducing women away from the pandering beta, and in-turn, ruining these women as prospective wives and mothers, must be redefined as the vile beta rapist.
I first joined OKCupid in 2006. While I had met girls in the past from local chat rooms on AOL, this felt archaic and pre-Socratic; OKCupid was the true monolith. After creating my profile, I browsed the site carefully, thoroughly reading profiles and perusing responses to the site’s very important questions about flag burning and eugenics. That’s when I came across Nikki and decided, what the heck, why not cobble together a message? She was pretty, she lived in my town, we had mutual interests, and we both seemed to think that “kissing in a tent in the woods” was idyllic.
She doesn’t love you. She loves her idea of you. This may be a close approximation of you, but it isn’t you and it never will be. She doesn’t want to see your humanity; it’s unsightly and weak. It will never match her idea of you. She loves the value you provide. She loves to believe in your leadership, and to rely on your conviction. This isn’t you, even if it’s a close approximation. You will never match the idea she has of you, and when this idea becomes damaged beyond repair, she will leave you if she has other options or resent you if she doesn’t.
The most efficient way of understanding the truth about Female Nature is doing a quick reversal of the kind of Feminist theory that has become mainstream thought over the last half-century.
Women do, in-fact, need men; womanhood is defined through manhood.
If we understand the Form of Masculinity as a man’s “efficiency in acquiring power, his comfort in holding power, and his ability to maintain power,” we can understand the Form of Femininity as a woman’s comfort in submitting to power.
Imagine yourself having passionate sex before you were acutely aware how inter-gender relations really worked; before you understood that there were laws of nature governing why an interaction with a woman, who was formerly a stranger, ended sexually.
When there was an intoxicating magic to getting laid.
And while the wet-hole is still the same, while her attraction still makes you feel like a Greek god, and while an orgasm is an orgasm… there is something to be said for becoming aware of the smoke and mirrors; it makes the whole interaction a little less exciting.
Women say rape is about power because that is how they primarily understand sex; an exchange of power. A woman can wield her sexuality to the detriment of a man- the proverbial carrot on a stick- in order to manipulate ruthlessly to her own end… or completely relinquish this power, taking intense pleasure in relinquishment, when a man exceeds her threshold of attraction.
It bears repeating that real rape is a vile crime on par with brutal assault and a notch below murder- as serious as a crime can get.
However, Fake Rape is an overt power-grab by abusing the cultural and evolutionary dynamic of men lacking inherent public sympathy while women enjoy a nearly infinite supply of it.