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I was discussing this very topic with a friend last night and a commenter on the last post asked about how farm work contributes or relates to the kind of fitness I am seeking… so, here we are.

A couple of premises first

The kind of fitness I am after is the kind that lets your jog or walk quickly up and down hills and through forests with a backpack, or a rifle, on a hike or a hunt, and you can do it the whole day, stopping briefly for a gulp of water or a bite of dried meat. I used to do this a lot in Africa and while I have never been a runner, I can walk most people into the ground. I get out of breath too quickly for my liking these days, although I notice people 30 years younger than me get out of breath about the same time as me even if they probably have more fuel in the tank, certainly for speed. Though I still outlast many out of sheer will.

In short, the kind of fitness I aspire to is the one that my decades of martial arts instilled in me. The ability to do a lot of high intensity movement bursts, followed by continuous, methodical work, followed by such bursts again and so on. It’s the best kind of fitness for fighting, hiking, and life in general in my opinion. And if done properly you tend to be stronger than most guys who push weights in the gym without looking like a doped up steroid freak. It’s a mix of aerobic fitness mixed with fast twitch muscles that makes you able to go for a long time at an intensity that most people simply can’t keep up with. It is also fairly easy to transmute this into a slower pace that lasts inordinately long too.

I am not after being able to lift a weight in artificial conditions in a gym of a set weight. In my experience those guys fall way short in an actual fight, and in the gym I can usually match them weight for weight or sometimes outmatch them even if not for the number of repetitions that may go for if we are comparable on what weight we can move. Lifting a heavy weight has never been something that was a plus in any confrontations, sparring sessions, or fights I had. In fact I routinely came out on top with guys that had 30 kg on me, and most of those guys were trained too. A bodybuilder or some guy who thinks he is “strong” because he moves a lot of weight in the gym has almost zero effect on the outcome of any confrontation I have been in.

A man must know his limitations. As that great philosopher Dirty Harry said. And generally I do. I am not a farmer by nature or talent. It is not scenting that comes naturally or early to me. The mentality of a farmer is something I can understand, appreciate, and respect, and there are some similarities with my own mentality, but it is not “my” way. I am a hunter by nature, which are the natural fighters in life, before soldiering got too specialised. And the differences may seem small, but they are telling. A farmer is by very essence a patient man. His mind and body are attuned to the rhythms of the earth and the sky. Even there, I am different, I am not a man of land, I am a man of the sea. That quality of patience, faith, subordination to the elements and attuning with them, I am too impatient for it mostly, on land. I can do it if I am hunting, and really doing well if I am doing what could be described of the hunting of people, when I did the euphemistically named “security” work in South Africa and elsewhere. But at sea, it comes naturally. I like being at sea. I can be patient at sea. Or hunting. But doing farm work… not so much. Mostly because I see it as a chore. A necessary thing that needs doing. Not something I am attuned to. While if I have to investigate a human, find fraud, track and arrest criminals, face off against a bipedal enemy… that stuff just comes naturally to me. Always has. This quality of mindset is what makes al the difference on your chosen activity and the level and kind of fitness you tend to go for.

Farm Fitness

In order for farm work to make you “fit” you need to have the farmer mindset and then get your body into it. You cut wood, so you swing the axe with a rhythm. Or cut with the chainsaw just so. You carry the wood just so. You split the wood just so. You drive the tractor just so, at that rhythm the machine and the earth requires. You digging up Earth you swing the pick just so and use the shovel just so.

If you do all that in just that farming-right way, then you get farm fit.

Farm fit means you can probably lift more weight than a guy three times your size does in the gym. There are videos of farmers and construction workers competing with gym rats for lifting cement bags and such and invariably the gym rats fall short. It also means you can do farm work to durations and volumes that will just about kill normal city people or even “fit” guys who do triathlons.

I can keep up with a farmer when they work but only out of sheer bloody-mindedness instilled in me from decades of Japanese style budo , and then refined by Russian style perseverance. When I do farm work myself I tend to be too impatient and work at my own instead of the earth’s rhythm, and while I tend to finish faster, it is also rougher, and I am more prone to over-straining something. I have got better over the 4 years I have been here, but as I say, it’s not my thing.

The similarity of mindset between a farmer and a martial artist is that neither stops or gives up. They may re-route, change tack, whatever, but they will persevere.

But health wise, a martial artist is definitely healthier and less prone to injury in my opinion. Also, because the work tends to be repetitive and not varied farmers may be strong at doing X, but may have bad backs, terrible knees, and be half-frozen in various joints. So I don’t think farming is “healthy” in that sense at all.

My Plan

Basically consists of some aerobic anti-gravity exercises, like pushups, squats, crunches, pull-ups and so on, followed by eating as little junk as possible, sticking to meat and water for the most part.

I have a knee that gives me trouble that I can only fix by working on those stationary bikes you get in gyms, so I may look into getting a second hand one down the line.

That’s basically it.

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So, even though I am clearly immortal, age may be catching up with me, and I have noticed at my genteel age of 56, certain foods do not get processed with the same efficiency at getting rid of garbage as I used to be able to do well into my 40s.

And possibly due to having caught the bioweapon designed to kill descendants of Viking Crusaders (Covid) in a particularly nasty way, and then two pneumonias, one of which came close to killing me, I also ended up not moving around as much as the farm in any case requires.

So… am thinking to start some kind of general improve my overall health/fitness regime thing. It’s not going to try and impress anybody, I am just doing this for my personal sense of well-being and overall health, but I figured there are probably a bunch of people out there either around my age or a bit younger, or older that might want to get some inspiration from it and if my showing what I do helps motivate them, it might be helpful to post regular updates on my progress. I don’t have specific targets in mind, other than to get overall a bit fitter, being able to train a little even if only by myself and a bag and the forest, or chase my kids around a bit more and swim with them in the sea when we go to the beach (in fairness I do this anyway, but it would be nicer if I felt I could do it longer and more often without feeling it at all).

There are only 21 of you that are subscribers, and they are split as follows:

3 founding members

12 yearly paid, and

6 monthly paid

I figure if I do this it needs to be something of value to these people, so let me know if you are interested in it.

For the most part it would be a record of what exercises I do on a weekly or so basis, more or less a brief description of what I eat or don’t eat and possibly whatever else comes to mind.

I’ve always been fairly good at being self-motivated to train, or do whatever, but it is definitely harder with work, a farm, a wife, and six kids. So, in part, my having to give a report on it regularly is also a small way to help keep me at it even on those days when everything conspires to try and make you a lazy man.

As I said I don’t have any specific objectives, but we can come up with some together possibly. I was toying with the idea of say doing X number of pushup by Y date, or stuff like that.

I would also probably demonstrate some exercises that I would do not in the classical “fitness” sense, but rather in a Systema alternative that has some more long-lasting effects.

Alright, the proposal is out there, if you’re a subscriber let me know in the comments if you want this or not.

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As regular readers of the OG blog 1 will know, as a public service, I from time to time select a suitable specimen of idiocy, gammaness, retarded Protestantism, retarded Paganism, and assorted retarded retardation in general, for what has come to be known as: A Kurganing .

This is where the individual’s idiocy is paraded before spectators for the multiple purposes of:

• Entertaining myself – Hey, everyone needs a hobby, making fun of idiotic people who think they are anything other than idiotic, and attempt to have pretences of competence in my general vicinity, and don’t take the first hint to run, is mine.
• Your entertainment – Admit it… Go on… it’s fun to read these things. I know I enjoy reading similar ones from anyone who does them competently, though for my tastes, I have yet to find one that writes them to the same “swallowing of their own tongue to avoid facing the brutal truth” level I tend to favour.
• Education 1 – This is mostly theoretical. Most people who are idiots just don’t ever learn to not be idiots, but sometimes, somewhere, maybe, like a real unicorn in a hidden meadow, in a small land hidden from man, one potential idiot might just read these Kurganings and decide in his heart he will at least not become the subject of the next one. Holding his silence if not necessarily learning anything beyond that.
• Education 2 – There is at least the potential that one or two high IQ persons who read here might be interested in figuring out the various little (but obvious) clues that immediately identify a MGTOW incel, a gamma “male”, general faggotry, and so on. Would-be inquisitors for the Kurganate should probably take notes.

Let us begin then, with the Kurganing of one fake “Doctor” Breck Strand, who felt it would be wise and clever and manly to leave a bunch of comments on the post I recently did on the long-suffering wives of Sigmas .

As usual, I will let him hang himself with his own idiocy, put on display for all, along with my replies.

This was his opening salvo of stupidity. He tells us in one swift motion that he is:

• Incapable of finding anything interesting in women or children. Which immediately tells us he is of subnormal intelligence and social skills, because with a little effort and imagination you can find a grain of sand interesting. Now, it’s also true that some women and some children can be irritating pains in the ass, just like a lot of humans regardless of age or sex, but that is not what he tells us. He tells us his brain is so atrophied he can’t see anything interesting at all. He also couches this in a none too subtle way as this being because he is intellectually superior, which, given the above context, is proof positive that he’s a complete retard with he imagination of a newt.
• Due to the above, and the obvious bitterness displayed, we can tell he is an eternal incel. This guy never had so much as a passing interest from a woman, never mind sex. I would bet he would probably creep out even a professional if he tried to hire one.
• His first reply further confirms this in several ways:
  • Calling a women in general conformist cowards shows with 100% accuracy that this specimen not only has never been with, or even near a woman. But his grasp of the female intellect and way of being is so far removed from reality that he will never be with one; and we can assert this with confidence. Why we can almost see the divine and the merciful hand of God above has so ordained it that his DNA will not propagate, for which we can all give thanks.
  • “Used to follow men” shows further absolute proof2 that his grasp of reality is not just tenuous, it is altogether absent. Women always have followed men, and always will. The operative word here being men. And less importantly but I suppose still somewhat validly women. The reality is that aside the brain damaged whales with pink hair and countenances that would make a warthog throw up in disgust at the very prospect of rutting with them, most women that are originally brainwashed into some level of feminism, when faced with a man, and especially a man they are attracted to, will revert to their natural state of being feminine, servile, nurturing and so on. And in due course eject and reject every nonsensical feminist idea that ever nested in their brain. The process can take years and few men want or need to put themselves through that, but in those rare cases where a man selects a damaged feminist for a wife and remains a man, the only things that can happen is divorce (initiated by her) or change of the woman. Personally, I never spent any time with a woman that ascribed to feminist ideas more than it was necessary to have the sex that would almost invariably change them into a shell-shocked version of their former selves, their feminist ideology shattered by their orgasms and hormones. But I was just doing that as a general public service for other men (you’re welcome) because the idea of wasting years of my life to reform a woman that consciously chose feminism was about as appealing as the idea of trying to teach a chimp to fly a spaceship. The point is, feminist are by and large unfuckable goblins, and their feminism is mostly driven by the green-skinned monster of their rage and envy at the beautiful women who have their pick of handsome men. Some pretty women might spout feminist ideology as a control tool to keep the various hordes of orbiters they inevitably have all around them at bay.3 But be sure that when the Lone Ranger rides in on Silver, points at her and says, “You. Get on the saddle.” she will spin her fingers through her hair before rushing to him with a girly giggle and her skirt fluttering in the wind. But no woman on Earth, or even female goat, will ever follow this sad, keyboard molester.
  • “All our energy…” inadvertently tells us how he actually spends his time, and what obsessive perennial thoughts afflict him constantly: Women. Have pity for his keyboard. And his screen. And his socks. And his desk. And… you get the idea…
  • We’ll get to that “suspended because of this comment” bit. It wasn’t the comment itself, but the fact he had shown his hand before that one with some others, which meant it was time to show the gamma-incel the door.

This was his next comment, posted before any of my replies above, by the way.

That is how he chose to begin in his second comment. By commenting on what my relationship with my wife looks like in his fevered imaginings. Quite a bold move. Not for the plethora of the usual reasons 4 of course, but for the rather telling one that this individual has obviously never had relations with any female of the human species. He may have attempted to rape a few goats, but given his obvious symbiotic relationship with his keyboard, I doubt these were anything but digital goats. Probably in a game like World of Warcraft, which in his febrile mind now doubles for his “reality”.

Let us see how he proceeds…

As you can see, the “banned for this comment” comment wasn’t the reason he was banned. Rather, knowing he would never stop, and given he had already shown us all who he is, and how Gamma is most definitely a category in Vox’s SSH, his purpose of education and entertainment had already been served. There was nothing further to learn. And indeed there isn’t but it does get a little more entertaining, hence this blog post. As you can see I predicted he would never stop immediately after I banned him, replying to my own comment… but even I can be at times mildly surprised by the eternal Gammaness of the Gamma. Behold… the arrival of “Doctor” Breck…

We are supposed to believe “Doctor” Breck is in no way related, or the sock puppet of, Breck Strand. Did I tell you way up at the top after his first comment this guy is basically retarded? Do you see reader? Can you appreciate why I entertain myself with sectioning these disgusting creatures on the blog for fun? What possible other use could these creatures have? Medical experiments? I mean, how would that be useful, these surely do not model viable human DNA after all…

And so “Doctor” Breck got banned too. I expect “Reverend” Breck, “Brother” Breck, and various “Cousin” Breaks may be showing up periodically in the coming weeks and months.

And I hope, just in case anyone here ever thought to feel “sorry” for these oxygen thieves, that this short exposition of their true nature has cured you of ever even imagining or hoping such beings as these, or the deranged feminists, ever find anyone to reproduce with.

It is the way of nature. They absolutely need to die alone and unloved by anyone. The sooner their DNA disappears completely from the gene pool, the better.

Inquisitor-prospects should test their flamethrowers for efficient functioning now.

I hope you enjoyed this educational presentation of the Gamma-incel as found in the wild.

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The current spate of people screwing up their lives, destroying their families and even committing suicide thanks to AI psychosis is (if you care) a somewhat interesting phenomenon from a psychological perspective.

This post by Lauren explains it rather well.

My personal reaction to people who have AI psychosis is pretty much similar to my reaction regarding the vast majority of humans on this planet, i.e. what a bunch of fucking idiots.

At an objective level I simply cannot see it any different than idiots, doing idiot things, in idiot ways, for idiot reasons. I hope you are starting to get the sense of how I feel about it objectively.

At a human level, of course, it’s fucking tragic. But then so are most human lives when you see them from my perspective. 1

But what is to be done?

Well, none of that AI psychosis can happen to someone who at the very least either:

1. Understands how AI functions and why (beyond most people but I did write about it thanks to a guy who did the hard work of explaining it rather well first)
2. Actually, really, KNOW YOURSELF.

That’s it. And if you have both, you’re golden.

Now, it needs to be said that the knowing yourself part must absolutely be rooted in reality, not your fever dreams of what a cool guy you are. That way lies AI psychosis and tragedy even without AI, oh my so not special unicorn.

Knowing yourself means you know exactly how you would react to shit you are not prepared for. It means that even in the heat of the fear and the alarm, 2 if you survive, when you look back, you know you couldn’t, and wouldn’t, have done anything different.

That means facing who you really are, choosing who you really want to be, then becoming it. It’s a conscious, constant, never-ending process of perennially checking and testing yourself.

Of course, I wrote about it at length in my book on Systema , and I discuss it in various ways in Caveman Theory too, but if you just do that —know yourself— then you don’t need to read anything else I write on it, really.

Live your life. Be. Do. And win or die trying.

That’s all there is to life, really, and in case you don’t know, “winning” has very little to do with “worldly success”. It can have something to do with it, but marginally at best.

So that is all you need to do, in order to not hang yourself from your doorknob after a one-on-one with ChatGTP: Know yourself.

You’re welcome.

Now, since I saved your life, and my posts are all free for all anyway, be a dear and buy a yearly sponsorship will ya? Or at least send me a Herradura Tequila bottle.

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So, I only read the one post, but man, did she explain the principles of how females judge and evaluate men well. I strongly urge any man even mildly confused by women and how to get to be with one seriously, to read this whole thing .

I am not sure, but judging from her writing and her self-admitted hyper-literalism, I suspect Kristin is on the spectrum and has a high IQ. Those of you who have bothered to watch my video from years ago , will know that I pretty much see it that a high IQ coupled with a touch of Autism (not a lot, Aspie level stuff is best) is really the next step in genuine human evolution. 1

This lady cuts through all the hand-wringing and brings you the clear, lucid truth:

I’m not a psychologist, evolutionary or otherwise, so I won’t bore you with any science-based opinions I gleaned from other, smarter writers. But there are reasons why girls are so picky. Deep, inborn reasons. Yes, even the fat ones. Yes, even the butter-face mids. They’re picky for good reasons, and no amount of silly fantasizing about violent theocratic revolution will stop them from being picky.

Instead of wondering how you can bend half the population to your will, perhaps you should activate those analytical skills I keep hearing you excel at.

Society has changed, but what women value hasn’t.

Do you think Topsy would have spoken up and squashed the argument if her husband was, say, a weird, eccentric tycoon who made others uncomfortable with his mumbling and poor hygiene? Would she have felt comfortable asserting herself in this female group if her husband had gotten sloppy drunk at last night’s party, and was seen groping the band singer?

I can’t think of a better way to explain the why and how of how many men fail so spectacularly with women than the above examples.

And yes, no amount of intel rage from “Pagans” that are supposedly “worshipping Odin” is ever going to get them laid, or “repeal the 19th”, even (especially) if a literal apocalypse happens, because those LARPers and MGTOWs would be the least reliable men you can find in any trench.

See how a man behaves and carries himself in public, in private, with friends and with strangers, and I will be able to tell you what kind of success he has with women.

Most men are so scared of making some faux-pas that essentially they become so ordinary and “nice” they may as well be invisible. You think women —those creatures that will spend thousands on looking good enough to be looked at by both men and women— want to be reflected by a “mirror” that no one even knows is there?

No.

But now allow me to put to rest another few myths, about the Sigma male.

The Pain of the Sigma Wife

Thanks to the perverting of the word and concept first created by Vox Day, everyone, especially Gamma males, but also some women (those who haven’t actually tried to be with one) have glorified the Sigma Male as the epitome of human achievement. Of manly manliness that every man should aspire to, and every woman desires.

As usual, taking half-truths and turning them into fictional legends never turns out well for those who believe these things.

So let’s first get the half truths:

Are Sigmas the epitome of male achievement?

It’s a stupid question to begin with.

Nothing is absolute except death. To think in such limited fashion shows the “thinker” is mostly retarded. Nevertheless, we can more or less see why this myth would be propagated; but even so, it bears remembering that Sigmas are also pretty as unique as any class of man can get, precisely because their classification is primarily rooted in their own individualism and self-reliance. Some of which self-reliance occurred by happenstance (though usually through hardship or trauma), even if it probably got refined and perfected later.

So while we can ascribe some generalities to them, none of them are written in stone (almost nothing ever is, but Sigmas specifically are a small percentage of humanity and the most unpredictable). The generalities are things like:

• Almost pathological self reliance. This can certainly appear to be, and also actually be attractive, especially from a distance. Because in order to be self-reliant a man inevitably has to become competent, and usually to a level well above the norm. Again, an attractive quality to a woman. Until that self-reliance is such that the woman realises this guy just doesn’t seem to value, care, even (gasp!) respect most people?!?! Cue: “Oh MAW GAWD! He’s a psychopath!”
• Their own code of conduct. While this is not necessarily always ethical, as my dad explained long ago, when I was a teenager: “Son, just remember, as long as you are yourself, and stick to your own way, even if you are an evil son of a bitch that kills an old lady every Friday night, you will always have a woman, best friends, and people on your side. But the day you wake up and decide to change, and that killing little old ladies is wrong, that’s when your “best friend” fucks your woman, and your “friends” disappear.” Crude as his explanation was, it’s basically true. Even evil men, who nevertheless march to their own pace, will not be short of sycophants and women. Regardless of your liking this or not, once again, a man that does his own thing unapologetically, and with conviction, is an attractive prospect to women. Don’t take my word for it, look up how many serial killers on death row get fan mail from women.
• Usually, they are quite capable in dealing with conflict. The Sigma ranges the most in many regards, but you can hardly succeed in the world if you are self-reliant without being able to navigate conflict in some way with generally good outcomes. A few Sigmas while perhaps not actively or at least consciously seeking it out, nevertheless thrive on conflict. Most do not look for it specifically, and would prefer to be left alone, but no Sigma is a stranger to confrontation and conflict. And when they do need to, they can absolutely become the most dangerous person in the room, no one excluded. Even an Alpha in a total Alpha rage is not safe from a Sigma that has (for whatever reason) reached murderous levels of response. Not even if he has bodyguards. And as you may have noted above, a man’s ability to navigate confrontation successfully, even to the point of potentially being capable of massive violence, is —again, like it or not— instinctively attractive to large numbers of the female population.
• Usually they have some measure of material success. Once again, this is not always a given, because some Sigmas are weirder than many can imagine, but as with some of the other attributes, to be self-reliant, outside of most social hierarchies, and so on, a man generally has to become at least somewhat capable in the world, and again, this is generally seen as an attractive quality.
• Does not put up with bullshit. Precisely because he cares little or not at all for social status and so on, a Sigma will defend what they consider their home (be it physical, mental, spiritual, or ideological) to the death. A Sigma can tolerate levels of stress that might kill other men in certain areas, and absolutely maul you if you encroach into their personal garden of peace, whatever that is and however it manifests for him. In most situations where the ending is not akin to a scene from Dexter, this plays out as a Sigma not tolerating the kind of shit-testing that women do as a function of their breathing, pretty much. And again, counter-intuitive as this may be, women perceive a man that takes very little of their nonsense as attractive, regardless of how much they deny it. And also regardless of the fact that as much as Gammas, may TRY to emulate this aspect of Sigma-ness, it simply cannot be faked. I can tell you from personal experience that while I might, for brief periods of time, resist the urge to tell someone to fuck off, when I in fact do so, there is no doubt in anyone’s mind that it is a full-hearted, genuine sentiment that comes from the very depths of my soul, and is in no way any kind of act. This is also probably why whenever I have ever reached that point, every problem person that was being a pain in the ass 3 seconds earlier, suddenly, miraculously, either disappears, or becomes instantly polite, and very, very helpful.
• Are often either oblivious or contemptuous of many social standards. People are mostly stupid and irrelevant, so a Sigma does not concern himself pretty much at all with what the opinions of others about him might be. Our main operating principle might be reduced to doing the minimum necessary to not be hunted down with torches and pitchforks, staying out of jail, and having as few people as possible bug us with their stupid questions, opinion, mouth noises and general incompetence and idiocy.

Now put those traits all in one person, and sure, from afar it looks so cool, right?

I mean, James Bond is a Sigma! (well, except he’s a government flunky, but we can put that down to his being able to pretty much do what he wants in exchange for his services, so it works) isn’t he cool? Yeah… notice how a lot of the women he gets involved with die? That’s the movies’ metaphorical representation of what one might assume happens to a Sigma wife a couple of times a day internally.

Or take the actual Kurgan —after which I was nicknamed by a group of online readers of Vox’s blog— Well, that guy, the one from the Highlander film, is certainly a Sigma. No one can deny he marches to his own beat. Now imagine bringing that guy to a cocktail party of your closest friends as your guest.

Feel the cringe? And that’s probably you, as a male reader. Now imagine being married to him. In like… the real world. And remember that a woman sees herself as a reflection of her man.

It takes a very unusual woman to be happy and content with a Sigma husband.

Sure, the bouts of positives can sometimes be real peaks of such brilliance that any woman would be flattered to bask in that light of it for a bit.

But the bouts of social shame that a Sigma can potentially make his wife experience (whether it’s real or not in the end is a bit subjective) 2 are probably not described in Dante’s lowest circles of Hell for the sheer shame of it.

The fact remains that what another man might navigate as a much smoother outcome, whether consciously or not, a Sigma can sometimes treat as an impromptu opportunity to test the effect of live hand-grenades in polite company. And bad enough sometimes he will do this without even realising that live hand-grenades and cocktail parties do not mix, that’s a horrific enough concept to digest for anyone… but sometimes the absolute maniac will do it on purpose, full knowing what live hand-grenades in confined spaces do to soft humans. 3 I mean he will have a reason for doing it, a good reason (to him anyway), maybe even a very valid reason too, but most women you see will just not appreciate it. 4

So… while I doubt it will make a dent in the idiotic “manosphere”, of which I most certainly do not consider myself a part of, nor any kind of spokesman for (God forbid!), perhaps, if people read this, the Gammas and other idolaters of the Sigma label, might just realise that:

• No you can’t fake it.
• Yes women (and everyone else too, but women especially) can tell if you are.
• Most women will be attracted and may even get involved initially with a Sigma, they may be their hidden mistress for years, but very few would actually be able to live with the inevitable misanthropy that Sigmas mostly have as part of their DNA.

James Bond is sexy to be seen with. Not so much to be married to.

Ditto Hannibal Lecter. It may be fun to be seen in the company of a sophisticated, educated, successful man with a refined palate in the presence of people you want to impress. A little less fun when you get home and realise he eats people. And a LOT less fun when the neighbours find out and then go missing.

Which is not to say all Sigmas are psychopaths, just to be clear. In fact I would guess proportionally less of them are mentally unstable than average by a good factor, because if you are not well-acquainted with reality it’s pretty difficult to be self-sufficient and do so successfully.

So… spare a thought for those brave women that take on the task of making a life with what might be the modern equivalent of a Pirate. It’s not about the legality of things, Sigmas are not necessarily any more criminally inclined than anyone else, as far as I can tell, it’s more about the social effect.

Some people might think pirates are cool. But polite society in general shuns them (even if more than a few of the “polite society” wives of very respectable “polite society” husbands will have been in very compromising positions with certain pirates).

And it is that general aura of “social outsider” that a Sigma Wife operates under, for the most part. The women who have it in them to be comfortable with such an aura are few, generally speaking, but I have also found that those who are, or at least become it, are women that are far more interesting than average. By a lot.

I used to have a Sigma boss that was married to such a woman, and I worked with them both. I can’t help but remember that man fondly, and sometimes am a little sad I lost touch with him. And his wife was truly a woman I deeply respected and enjoyed the company of. The conversations I had with her were always either entertaining, funny, or interesting. She was never superficial yet had the ability to make light of the most difficult situations in a way that defused things better than most hostage negotiators might do. And if and when she got pissed off, woe betide the poor bastard that did it, because she would cut him down in that British cold-venom delivery that can be worse than being simply shot. And immediately after, in case the unfortunate individual was too insensitive to have been adequately wounded in his ego, along would come her husband with all the subtlety of a raging bull on cocaine that was also on fire.

He once threw a client’s consultant off site permanently and with language that would make a sailor blush because the man had made a half-joking comment that one of the plasterer’s hi-viz vests was dirty.

It was quite a spectacle, and workmen within hearing distance (elevated by the volume his rant was delivered at) downed tools to look on in stunned silence at this project manager telling a man twice his size, who also worked for the client, what a so and so he was and how dare he talk to one of his men that way, and to get his X and Y face and arse off his site right the fuck now and never show his face here again…and so on…

The only sound that was being heard aside him ranting, and the other guy looking like a deer in headlights trying to apologise and not being allowed to, was me, basically trying to stifle a belly laugh.

Two minutes later, back in the office on site, he was all smiles and saying how he didn’t like that C*** from day one and now he wouldn’t have to see him again. The whole show was both real AND a show. And it was a masterful psychological play on the client too, that very few men would have managed to pull off successfully without possibly ending up in court, never mind completing the project at a profit, and even more miraculously, on time.

In fact, his project was the only one, aside one of my own, that I have ever known to actually finish on time. The man was a brilliant project manager, regardless of the fact that his “style” was described by the client’s top financial consultant as: “Belligerent”. I had to tell him what the word meant as he was unfamiliar with it, and when I did he smiled proudly. On that project I believe I had been described as “Intransigent”, by the same man. But that project finished on time and made a very healthy profit, and the client remained a repeat client.

But try to understand that the average woman (who in this case remember: also worked in the same office with us) would absolutely shrivel in shame and possibly spontaneously combust if their husband behaved that way at their place of work; and in such a way that literally everyone at the company and at the client’s too, no doubt, had either witnessed this or would be told about it in technicolour version too.

Not this lady. She’d make a joke of it, and offer him a warm Ribena drink instead, possibly with a dry comment about having already achieved “model project manager of the month” in the first week of it.

Yes, it may be true that Sigmas may have more legends told about them than other types of men. But try to understand that legends tend to have all sorts of half-truths, outright lies, and, more of than not, some corpses and monsters.

And for good reason.

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Regulars here will know that I took Scott Adams of Dilbert fame to task a while back for basically being not just so stupid to have injected himself with the death juice (mostly for what I believe are reasons of lack of genuine “game”), but for also promoting it originally, and then being so dishonest afterwards in trying to justify his idiotic choice, as if those who chose not to inject themselves with genetic altering serums that have been known to kill the test animals for 30 years prior were just “lucky”. Or as if there was no information to prove that injecting yourself with murder-juice is not the smart thing to do.

But you will also know that after he stated he was on his way out this summer, 1 I was content to let him die in peace.

But now he’s just gone and tried to defend pedovores in public so… let us first see what he says:

And let’s see some of the reactions of normal people… and his replies…

And here we see Scott’s “greatest influencer” method in play from the “hypnosis” bag of tricks he claims to be so good at. 2

That tweet up there? It’s one of the very first and flimsiest of what is known as “the double-bind”, which is described as an Ericksonian technique. And in this case, about as badly executed an example of it as I have ever seen.

Scott is presenting the situation as:

1. If you tell the truth kids will die in a massive war that will absolutely happen.
2. If you tell the truth to get “justice” for the victims, you will cause a “bigger harm” to the world (and other children).
3. He then applies a hypothetical number of children that must die for his hypothetical scenario, that is in any case not related to the issue at all.

So for those that need things explained in small words:

1. There is absolutely no evidence at all that exposing pedovores and pedophiles and child rapist/murderers publicly with 100% solid proof will actually result in a war. It is more likely it will result in a small revolution where said creatures get hung from the nearest lampposts, and that is all to the good.
2. There is no moral connection between the two issues. But IF there were… Let’s say that telling the truth about the fact that a Talmudic-Jewish-ideology dominated planet, run by blackmailing pedovores IS how things really work (it is, sadly), and let’s further say that exposing that would result in war, then the moral question is NOT if you should tell the truth or not because of the consequences of war or not, but rather, what planet do you wish to live on? One where the pedovores run things, or one where they get used as piñatas before being incinerated and every trace of them is disappeared from the Earth? Because I know which planet I’d choose; and I don’t care how many wars we may have to have to get there.
3. Furthermore, we absolutely KNOW the pedovores are raping and killing LITTLE CHILDREN right now. But NO ONE, and certainly not stupid Scott who injects himself with death-serum, can know what the consequences of such exposure would be, but any rational person might come to a few conclusions, such as:
   1. Americans might just realise what Israel is and what it has done and continues to do to America and Americans.
      1. Funding it might stop.
      2. Mass media companies might go bankrupt. And we’d let them.
      3. Ditto banks.
      4. Maybe the genocide Israel is doing now might just slow down a tad once the world realises what the followers of the Talmud do and have done for thousands of years, and how this planet is really run.
   2. The pedos might all be put to death or at least jailed, regardless of the fact they are politicians, judges, lawyers, senators, presidents, etc, etc, etc. Because people just MIGHT finally revolt and do away with ANY criminal “justice” system that is in fact aiding and abetting the pedos. If that requires some chaos, a revolution even, so be it. It would in any case mostly be limited to pro-pedos vs. humans. And I’m perfectly happy to fight that war against the pro-pedos for as long as it takes. So are most normal humans. Those who are not normal, nor human, as far as I am concerned, are best exposed and removed, because I sure as shit don’t want such creatures living on my planet any more than I would want vampires living in my spare room.
4. And given that such exposure might in fact result in just what is described in the three points above, it is surely worth trying it out. Also because… it has not been done before, and things are not exactly getting “better” are they? Quite the contrary.

But let us continue to see how Scott turns this all around to us all cheering for Pedos, shall we?

Uh… so… not quite the world-influencer you thought you were, eh Scott?

But Scott is not known for his not doubling, tripling, and quadrupling down ladies and gentlemen, and here we see him AGAIN, using the “double-bind” technique, about as proficiently and intelligently as a doped up, cocaine-fuelled chimp might conduct brain surgery.

But notice that Gabriel Coleman turns the absurd “double-bind” choice (either your kids die or else justice never happens, so you need to allow justice to never happen) right back on him and Scott, exposed for the idiot sycophant to power and possibly pedos that he is, remains in total silence.

So yeah… fuck Scott Adams, and the sooner this planet is rid of people like him that make such proposals as the “intelligent” choice, the better.

But my final thought on this is also one more thing no one has mentioned…

Apparently, there is now good evidence that the Vaxx shot shrinks the Amygdala, or even completely destroys it. Which is why so many Vaxxed look like intellectual Zombies, just an inch away from actually rabidly biting people. And some vestigial part of them knows it. And their behaviours become more and more driven by rancour, envy, rage, and jealousy towards those that made better and saner choices.

I think this kind of post was done by Scott on purpose, to fan the flames of discord, because secularist that he is, and death approaching, he wants to burn the world with him, like all boomers of his kind do.

Well Scott, it’s not going to happen.

The world will finally be rid of you soon, and we will all be better off for it, and soon, no one will even remember you existed.

Good riddance.

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I made a comment on WBC’s substack’s post on “the end of the world as I know it!” to the effect that his nihilistic defeatism was weak-sauce, thusly, and note the reply I got.

To which I could only reply in kind:

But aside the little tit-for-tat on the internet, what does that kind of response, reaction, way of thinking really say about people like WCB as well as David from Texas?

These are not men living life.

These are scared weaklings whining because it’s raining outside and even if they use an umbrella they may get a bit wet, and oh, it’s just all so terrible…

It’s pathetic.

Who gives a flying fuck if I get run over by a bus with my name on it tomorrow?

Shit happens. That’s life.

These “people”… their solution to everything is stay in bed because life might happen if you go outside.

Anything less than the comfort of your couch binge-watching Netflix with a Starbucks turd-tasting “coffee” mixed in with cancer-inducing sweeteners is a hellscape they can’t imagine without going into catatonic epileptic fits.

On one hand it pisses me off for how weak, weak, weak, WEAK, the average “man” has become.

On the other hand hand, I’m half-thinking, “Fuck-it, if these are the kinds of “men” we have to rely on to rebuild a civilisation worth having, it really is better if they don’t reproduce and just silently die off as they nest in their apartments like the fat self-grooming non-reproductive mice of Universe 25. 1 No one needs these oxygen thieves on the planet anyway.”

And on the third hand (hey, mutants are a thing in the post-nuclear waste-land, right?), if this is the majority, then perhaps the Kalergi plan will indeed win out, but then, even if that were a foregone conclusion, let me express this in the best Gen X classical reply I can muster for my entire generation:

So. Fucking. What?

Fight anyway. What else you gotta do? Groom yourself to death?

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Please read this through, especially if you are a woman. The conclusions may be quite different from what you expect.

In the “Red Pill Manosphere” and pretty much in the minds of most normal men, but more-so the younger ones, if they have not been completely brainwashed from a young age, and/or had their testicles surgically removed and placed in a jar on the bedside next to “their bride”, the overall sense is that they had enough of women’s bullshit.

This is the general vibe of the male internet and increasingly of men in real life too.

And that “other guy” is increasingly “every guy”. And even the really pretty women are starting to get impacted by it (though at a small fraction what their less attractive and disproportionally entitled peers are experiencing.)

Don’t get me wrong, I understand. In fact I understood at least some of it, a looooooooooong, long, long, time ago.

Keep in mind that at age 16 or so I came up with this:

Q. You know what Paradise is like?

A. It’s exactly the same as here on Earth, the only difference is that there the women’s brains work just like men’s.

and also this at around the same time:

Men have already improved from being possibly brutish brutes, to being “more sensitive” selves, with the tragic consequence of a vast increase in “metrosexuals” (i.e. faggotry in general) but (as usual) women are lagging behind, because if there is to be a “next step” in human evolution, it needs to be women learning to do logic a whole lot better than they do now.

and I hadn’t even got a proper full time girlfriend at that age, what with being stuck in the equivalent of Tatooine, without so much as a broken down X-Wing to hyperspace to better planets.

And of curse, online is the worst place to find the worst videos, chats, “debates” and general de-evolution of both the female and male species, so I absolutely get why so many young men are utterly despondent, depressed, find “dating” to be an almost pointless and hopeless endeavour which feels more like a jockeying for position at a degenerate Wall Street old-style shouting and bartering match, to throw your hard-won savings at the most glamorous temple prostitute you can afford.

Modern “dating”

However, the older I get, and the more absolutely obvious it becomes that two things are true.

The first even many women are starting to acknowledge, and men have known since before it started, and it is this:

Feminism has been terrible for everyone, but more-so for women overall, and for children most of all.

Of course, the slimy gammas, the metrosexuals, the deep betas that can’t laid in a whore-house with a fistful of cash, those creatures, are not actually men, they are the run-off of the male species after they had a violent bout of stomach cramps; and those creatures certainly pushed for, and helped along, feminism at every turn. In the vain hope it would get them laid. It still doesn’t but they aren’t to know, being what they are.

I am not going to waste any time “proving” that. It’s a big internet, go read some statistics on single parent families raised by women vs men, etc, etc, etc.

The second, is less well known, and still gets spoken of more in whispers, mostly for the fear of cancellation, ostracisation, being labelled a “creep” misogynist, woman hater, toxic male, blah, blah, blah. And because of it, it gets articulated less well overall.

It is this second, deeper, more meaningful truth this post is about, and yes, it will take a little more than a sentence to unpack, but if you had to reduce it to a single sentence, it would be this:

Me Tarzan. You Jane.

Yes, picture is related

In essence, at its base, the relationship between a man and a woman is not adversarial but complementary, and as long as men and women know, understand, and fully embody and embrace the very healthy, normal, and actually relatively EASY principle of sticking to their own lane, things really can be quite blissful between them.

Women are not rational creature. I explained this in autistic detail in this post , with actual scientific information you will not find in any journal of medicine (much less the pseudo-charlatanism that is psychology today) but that you can actually verify for yourself both in medicine and in everyday experiences of life.

Certainly, when compared to men, women behave in distinctly different and at least generally predictable ways. I do go into a lot more detail on this in my book, Caveman Theory , but to boil it down to a general principle, you can say they are more “emotional” than men, and it’s true, but it hardly explains to you how to deal with it, and even more importantly, there is no one around that is really telling you that the fact women are more emotional, is not just:

• A biological imperative, which means you will NEVER change it. My 16 year old wish for the utopia of women becoming more logical might, inch along at a couple of IQ points in that general direction per century, but women, as long as they are human females, will never statistically approach the capacity for raw logic and objective observation men have. And no, lady, your specific solipsistic special case exception does not change the general rule.
• An irritant, that probably ultimately drives a lot of the discord between couples, from arguments, through to divorce and even murder. I mean, make no mistake, their solipsism, hypocrisy, dodging of taking any responsibility for their own actions to extents that would make the average male narcissist blush in shame, and so on, all ARE irritating as hell, but they are far more-so when you see absolutely no benefit to or for how, and why their brains work as they do.

And the REASON we don’t understand, see, appreciate, or even know about from stories anymore, that there are MASSIVE benefits to how women’s brains work, is because we have gradually, but now almost totally, been removed from natural living conditions.

If you are reading this, you likely live in an air-conditioned home of some sort, commute to work in a tube of metal sitting quietly next to other zombies, or your own individual metal capsule, until you get to your place of work where any human interaction is for the most part governed by the same sort of subroutines that a robotic arm in a factory might have been programmed with long before AI was a thing of any kind.

Sure, we have striped toothpaste, penicillin, and no sabre-tooth tigers hunting us, but we also have digital everything. You can’t scream at the top of your voice in a forest just because; and God forbid you try to strike up a conversation with a stranger. And so on and so forth, in our ever darker dystopia.

So, what’s the answer? Well, sure, go rural, look for a woman that has at least an inkling of a clue of an idea of how tough trying to be a self-sufficient off-grid type that also wants a bunch of kids, is, and for all that is good and holy, PLEASE have a fucking plan, lest you end up like Harrison Ford in Mosquito Coast .

But even if you live surrounded by concrete and office cubicles, the point is, the natural ways of man, have been as disrupted, lied about and perverted almost as much as the natural ways of women.

Here some use of imagination is helpful.

Imagine Tarzan, or indeed a cowboy from your favourite cowboy film, or a pirate from a decent pirate movie, or a space captain from any SF film of the 1950s or so.

How “upset” thrown by, bamboozled, distraught and so on do they get at the average female dramatising drama for drama’s sake, emotional outbursts, vicious verbal attacks, and so on? For the most part they look on slightly amused, tip their hat and say something like: “You have a nice day ma’am.” Or if at the end of their tether they say something curt and leave. And in a more extreme case…

Gasp! VIOLENCE!

Calm down. No, I am not advocating for beating your wife/girlfriend/etc.

Let me share however, a short episode from my own life pre-my Christianity.

I had various relationships with women, that were certainly far from any kind of Christian ideal, but in one such, the dynamic was very much female (i.e. crazy) from her. And I have always been me. It quickly became obvious that the silliest little thing could set her off, and it was equally obvious that I have never been the type to take needless shit, but even less so when really there is no need for it at all.

One day, before it escalated, half-jokingly, I grabbed her, put her over my knee, and spanked her. Not hard enough to really hurt, but enough she felt a little sting. She struggled initially, but immediately after the three quick slaps to her butt, I felt her physically relax on my knees. She stopped struggling. Stopped talking, and I could see from her face that she was going through some kind of emotionally complex event in her head. Being rather empathetic, I sensed what was happening inside her, to a decent extent, so I caught the moment and said something like:

“And what do you say now?”

She was hesitant… but her attention was almost entirely focussed inward, she was more talking to herself than me, as she tentatively replied:

“I… am… sorry…?”

From then my replies were instinctive, I didn’t have to think about them.

“Yes, you should be. Because you’ve been a very rude girl, haven’t you?”

“…”

“And you don’t want to be a rude girl… not yet anyway… right? You want to be a good girl, right? ”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Good girl,” and with a gentle stroke of her backside this time I asked the final question before I let her up:

“And what do you say to me for helping correct your behaviour?”

“Thank you!”

Needles to say, she practically mauled me seconds later, but in the kind of way you like.

After that, we experimented with this kind of dynamic, and for the few weeks or so it lasted, our relationship (such as it was) was definitely better. And it wasn’t really a sexual thing either. Not really, not always, certainly. A few times she literally thanked me in cold blood after a short spanking. She literally felt it was making her a better woman, and it really was. There were other dynamics that were completely skewed and off-the charts so that relationship was never anything other than a ticking time bomb, 1 but that’s beside the point.

The point is that —though it’s probably seen as “extreme”, or even “abusive” probably by many men and women today, the reality of it is that even a woman that was (truly, trust me on this) shall we say “more volatile” than a coked up howler monkey, was thankful for a (literal in this case) firm hand. And please believe me when I say the spankings were essentially symbolic. 2

Now, please, you gamma-retard types, do NOT go home and spank your wife or girlfriend out of the blue thinking it will lead to great sex instead of probably a punch in the nose and possibly assault charges. I’m just a guy on the internet, you are the only person responsible for whatever you do in your life, got it? Good.

The point is that of all the various analogies of men-woman relationships in the “manosphere”, most are really bad. The “captain and first officer” doesn’t work because women are not military officers. The “white knight and damsel in distress”” even less so, as anyone who might have read Homer would know, because women are vicious and sanguine monsters when the mood takes them, and more likely a succubus than ever a damsel in distress. But if you are to simplify things to the extreme, Tarzan and Jane, does work.

As long as you read the original Tarzan and have also read Homer’s Illiad and Odyssey.

Because… in the comic books, pulp magazines, and so on, they only show Jane as being a very loyal, smart, sexy, well-put together woman.

They don’t tell you that the real Jane, even if she is all those things, might get it on with the local gorilla, or sexy poacher if Tarzan is away too long (and he too might also partake of a sexy looking chimp, or bored lady accompanying her poacher husband).

They don’t show that she will stab Tarzan in the neck in his sleep is she ever finds out he was entertaining the poacher’s wife (regardless of the fact she was doing the same with the poacher himself at the time).

And that when the poacher, thinking he has finally got Jane —in that interim while Tarzan stitches up his own nicked jugular with some cat gut— reaches out for her meaningfully, Jane will shoot that poacher right in the face with his own revolver before returning to Tarzan and helping him stem the gushing blood.

Though she still won’t speak to him for a week.

Nor do they tell you that Tarzan kills a bunch of things daily, to survive, feed himself and Jane, and so on.

Because men are men, and women are women.

Is it really bliss if you both remember that?

Well… no. What with the stabbings, the blood, the bodies, and the unfortunate cat, where the cat-gut comes from, and so on.

But it’s a far more sustainable, eco-friendly, and natural way of living.

I mean… what are you, some kind of nature-hater?

And all that “craziness” woman have? It has a powerful, real, important, in fact, PIVOTAL point for humanity.

It’s what makes a mother feed her baby 15 times through the night, and still try to not murder the other 5 children all saying “mommy, mommy, mommy” or her husband when he asks her where his car keys are.

It’s what keeps her (mostly) sane by being able to be distracted by minutiae and taking pleasure in little events (if she only nags and whines all the time, again, it’s not the PC thing to say, but… she’s obviously not happy in the bedroom). 3

A woman that returns to herself and being a woman, with all the femininity that entails, both good and bad, comes up with the very kind of insanity that sees to it that after our 6th child, which due to our ages, life in general, the size of the house, money, and all the other 10,000 “good” reasons that she has absolutely, definitely, decided, we will have no more children (just like she said after number 4. And again after number 5.) barely a month after she gave birth to him, says: “Well, I mean… if… you know… I had nannies and maids, and… I mean… I do love having babies so much. They are so cute. And I do like being pregnant…”

And if you are a man, and you see her eyes and feel her emotions when she says this, knowing also full well that it’s quite possible 5 minutes later she may wish death and destruction upon you, the world, and the weather, you start planning how to do a successful bank heist.

Because maids or not, there just might end up being baby number 7 coming along in due course.

Now, is that an easy life? Nah.

But who the hell wants a boring, easy, run-of-the-mill life?

My ancestors were Vikings that converted to Christianity, went and fought in the Crusades, returned, and fought and ended feuds in the South of Italy that had been ongoing for 200 years. Then they took up and went North fighting for Venice. And I am supposed to tremble before the idea of some German pervert telling me I am going to get “vaccinated” and eat bugs?

I am supposed to be “afraid” if child number 7 comes along?

Because what? I’ll have less time to binge-watch the latest Netflix globohomo narrative? Or I may need to work like a mule all day and watch and see my children playing and fighting and living in our little piece of forest or with some friends in the village square? That’s the “hardship” I have to face?

Making enough of that fake money to be able to survive and give them a decent enough life is my hardship?

Yeah, I would probably take a small war instead too, but imagine being at sea, or over-seas, for months, years, no comms at all with the people you left behind. You might return to a missing wife, dead children, who knows.

And we tremble in fear of “women are all gold-digging whores” today? And,

“Aw may GAWD, it might end in divorce, I better stay in and play on my X-box!”

Is that who you are?

Because if so, good fucking riddance, no one needs those genes being passed on.

This is your hardship and terror!

And women are not all gold-digging whores. I assure you.

They have been lied to and manipulated and brainwashed, and indoctrinated about 10 times more than you have. Because they are women. And because they are weaker to that sort of manipulation. And it is your job to help just one. The right one (and sure, that is hard to do, pick the right one), to veer her away from the light that is a zapper for bugs, and steer her towards the soft glow of starlight far away, as you build and plan and create a small city of two, then populate it with as many offspring as you can. And surround yourself by others like that too.

Life has never been easy.

Choose your own hard, and choose it well.

And live it.

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I have been inordinately busier than normal lately, so as bullet points:

• The Olive Oil we had for the USA has now all Benn bought, shipped and received. Not sure when the next batch will be, but I will announce it if it happens later this year.
• I have I think 4 new books, genuinely, I don’t recall if it’s 3, 4, or 5, which are essentially finished. A couple need a minor read through for typos, and all of them need cover designs, I just haven’t had the chance to put them together lately, but I must somehow create a clone or a Time Machine and just get it done.
• The shitty brand of tools called Stiga have been breaking like coke-heads being interrogated by the Gestapo since I bought them. Slowly and uncertainly, as money permits, I plan to replace them all with something more durable. Personally, my philosophy of machinery is that it should be able to be used in the Sahara and in Antarctica, continuously, just adding oil and fuel to it, and it should be guaranteed for life. a car my grandfather had in the very early 1970s still works and drives. The modern “throw-away” construction methods of building everything from fidget toys to skyscrapers should warrant sever jail time, corporal punishment and in extreme cases death. If I buy a weapon, a tool or a machine it should outlast me and my children too assuming we all live to healthy 105. Anything less is shoddy, crappy, weak workmanship and should all be labelled as “built in India”.
• The new boy is awesome. He drinks boob, smiles, sleeps and craps. Not a whiner at all, but like all creatures with my DNA, if things don’t get done the way he wants and sharpish, he definitely lets you know about it. His sisters all love him and also want to treat him a bit like their own baby/doll/living tickle toy. His brother on the other hand is quietly protective and you can tell he is thinking he can’t wait for the little dude to be old enough to start planning trouble-filled adventures with him. Having another male besides dad in the house must feel like getting his very own spaceship.
• I still really want a Colt 1911 and a Colt Navy 1851. Can someone tell Elon Musk, or whoever, that he could make one poor Olive Nigger boy in the third world of Europe really happy, with just like €4,000 or so and then a mere €500 a month for ammo? I’ll send him a certificate of rounds fired per month and pictures of the targets. Even the occasional piece of brass so he has a momento. GWAN Elon, remember your African roots and help out another African. You know you want to! And actually, now I think about it, can you also thrown in some cash for a Yellow-boy Winchester lever action rifle too? And maybe a really nice mottled grey/white/black stallion I saw near here, and like… a barn for it. Look, I’ll settle for the handguns, Elon, but I also need a fresh water well… think of it like providing clean water to impoverished third world farmers.

In other news… it’s all good, but I still need to chop more wood since it’s scorching hot now and this winter I REALLY don’t want to try and burn any kind of wood other than the kindling-level dry one that works really well in our stove.

And I look forward to the littlest girl standing out there in her coat, gloves and pom-pomp hand and with her blonde curls and bright blue, smiling eyes, saying “You bashed it, daddy!” and “You missed!” when I don’t split the wood on the first go.

A new bee guy should come round next week as the original guy moved further away and took his bees with him. Hopefully we’ll carry on having uninterrupted fresh, real honey too, and if it goes well may even see about exporting it to the USA along with the oil too. From the end of this year, we should be able to ship larger shipments to the USA, though the shipping is still absurdly expensive, and if Donnie’s “Israel is our greatest genocidal ally” tax oh, sorry, tariff , gets added on too, it may well mean we change the brand name to liquid gold, and only Elon will be able to buy a few litres a year. Unless he gets us a well and a bunch of guns. Then we will look into a subsidy for generous billionaires that need the best quality oil for their cyborg parts.

Oh, and if this property were to be left abandoned I think within six months the vegetation would have swallowed it. If the Amazonian jungles grow as fast as the weeds, brambles and bamboo does here, I expect there are entire civilisations’ metropolis that have been covered up. They probably had skyscraper and space ports too. But they may have left for a mont’s holiday to some other planet and when they got back it was all gone. Covered up by vegetation.

Anyway, that’s it for now.

Of course, I keep praying for the Xenozoic era do descent upon us instantly as a result of some spat-temporal dislocation for the entire planet.

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This post was originally published on my Substack. Link here

I came across a note today of a man that wrote about how he met his wife. Full of optimism and goodness. Wholesome. Here it is.

And I thought, how rare that is for young men today.

They are all so scared of being seen as needy, or offensive, or misogynistic, or being ostracised and so on. Brainwashed from birth by woke bullshit. Well, I just reflected on how I lived my life, and I thank God it worked out as it did, honestly I do, but man… how can you even call it living if you don’t do as your heart commands?

I know, I know… the advice everyone gives you is to use your head, blah, blah, well… I came up with this analogy a long time ago, and I figure it’s time to share it with the internet.

I think a man is (or at least should be) a bit like an old Harrier jump jet almost no one remembers, the XZ146, which also went by various other names, such as T.4, T.4N, T.Mk4, TAV-8S, or VAE.1, but we will stick with the real name, the Harrier Jump Jet XZ146 version.

These VTOL (Vertical Take Off and Landing) capable fighter jets could be equipped with variable weapon loads, making them one of the most versatile combat aircraft ever built. 1 They had a pilot and a navigator in it. The Navigator was also known as the Weapons System Officer, and I believe fired the 25mm gun pod the XZ146 could be equipped with. 2

AAAAAAnyway… 3 The point is that if we take this jump jet as the analogy, you need to know a tiny bit about its configuration (don’t worry, I have relegated the Autistic level data to the footnotes. Mostly. Kinda.) 4

So this is what you need to know:

• It has a crew of two: Pilot and Navigator/Weapons System Officer (WSO)
• It can carry a variety of weapons depending on the mission
• It was used primarily as a training craft because of its two seat configuration, but was one of the most adaptable fighter/bomber jet ever built
• It could land and take off vertically

And now for the analogy:

• The Pilot is your brain
• The Navigator is your Heart
• The Pegasus Engine is your gut

Now… here is the analogy.

Everyone thinks the Pilot is the cool guy, the leader, the man! He runs the show, right?

Nah. You know what the main, almost sole purpose of the Pilot is?

To make sure the plane, survives and gets back to base.

That’s it.

Who REALLY controls things is the Navigator. He’s the guy that tells you where to go, what to do when you get there, when to trigger all the weapons and if needed the evasive counter-measures, and he’s also the guy that knows the way back home.

The ENTIRE purpose of your brain, as far as I am concerned, is to make you (brain, body and heart) survive , the adventures, trips, dogfights, bombing runs, and scouting missions your heart sends you on. It’s good to have a good brain. Especially is you have a heart as crazy as the one I was born with. Because otherwise you almost certainly will be shot down, blown up, or taken prisoner and ass-raped by your enemies, probably to death. And probably live on camera.

As for your gut, if you want it to really work well for you, you have to fine tune it. you have to know it better than your brain. Because if you get a sense that something is wrong in your gut and you ignore it, your entire fighter/bomber (life) can just dunk into the ocean without further warning. So, as always, the key point:

Know Yourself

It’s certainly not for everyone to live like that. The again, most people don’t want to train to be navigators in a Harrier Jump jet at age 17. And mind you, in reality, I am glad I didn’t get in. Because the likelihood would have been that if I did I would have been asked to possibly bomb goat-herders in Iraq or Afghanistan, with whom I really had no reason to want to harm, much less blow up for the machinations of the child-raping vampires that run these wars.

But the analogy served me well for decades, and I still live by it. Of course, just like the XZ146, I’m getting a little on in years, 5 so I might not rush headlong into the thick of battle anymore, being more prone to go only on short runs to bomb the crap out of anything threatening my base, should such a thing show up, and otherwise mostly giving joy rides to the kids as best I can while it all still works.

My life has certainly had extremely interesting and joyful highs and just as extremely interesting and dramatic lows, make no mistake, when new acquaintances as about me I try to brush them off with a quick and funny answer, but those that dig and seem to really want more inevitably go from a look of polite interest to the kind of face you see on people driving slowly past a multi vehicle pile up with bodies scattered all around.

As I said, this is not life advice for YOU.

I’m just telling you how *I* lived and live my life. And in all honesty it’s probably a miracle or ten I am still alive and well, you know “free”, insofar as any of us is on this prison planet.

Now, if you happen to be of the same sort, then good luck to you, WSO! May your cannons fire promptly, your sidewinders find their enemy swiftly, and your bombs clear out the evil below you, and may you always pat that pilot on the back every time he manages to get you back home despite his protests at the insane trips and missions you take him on.

As for me…

Well. I could never imagine living any other way.

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This post was originally published on my Substack. Link here