The End Of The Red Pill?

We’re having another round of elimination apparently.

I said it back in 2019, and it still stands today:

The underlying problem, the elephant in the room, remains.

It’s still someone else’s platform.

YouTube, Bitchute, Anchor, Patreon, Soundcloud, even my e-mail list, whatever. It’s still someone else’s platform. They all can pull the trigger for any reason at any time. Maybe it’s advertisers putting pressure, maybe it’s funding. Maybe it’s the guys running it got tired of doing it. It doesn’t matter.

This came from my post “In Perpetuity.”

The fun thing is, Chest came back with this:

And he’s not wrong. The Red Pill will always show up somewhere. Somebody will host it, copy it, reference it, whatever it takes. There’s always a “keeper of records” out there. There’s always a bibliographer, writing books about books. There’s always a librarian keeping track of who wrote what, when, and where. I believe we also call them historians.

The problem is, there are too many record keepers and not enough actual “doer’s.” It’s far too easy today to copy some links for posts, books, videos, and audios. It’s easy to keep a record of them. God knows I have done it in my time, too. But then that’s about as far as it goes. Guys hanging around in the “redpill scene” for years. And they haven’t learned a goddamn thing. But they can quote Rollo book, chapter, and verse. That’s great bud, how many women have you fucked lately? How many women have you approached and talked to lately?

*Crickets*

That’s what I thought.

Dante, BullRush, and I were having an audio conference on Dante’s discord. We were talking, well Dante was specifically talking about “nuking” the server in its entirety. He’s got shit to do and I know I don’t want the reins. Sorry, not sorry if I’m “outing” you, Dante. Too many guys jerking off and not doing anything. I don’t know if or when he’ll “pull the plug” or not, but it’s definitely a possibility. How does it affect me personally? Not one iota. The server stays, the server goes, I don’t care. I got what I needed from the Red Pill many years ago. Now I hang around for the lulz and to shoot the shit with friends.

I suggested instead of nuking the whole server, why not just nuke the text channels? Too many “keeper of records” saving information that they will never use in the real world. But boy, they will copy and paste that shit into a notepad or some kind of Word document that they will file away “for future reading.” Same with YouTube videos. They’ll put them in the “Watch Later” category and that is where it will stay until they delete it one day, or it’ll disappear because the channel owner deleted it or made it private. How do I know? Because I have done it.

I can remember “back in the day.” Back in the day, there was no internet. There was no forums, no discord, no Twitter. No easy way to get information on seduction. There was definitely nothing on what we now call “the Red Pill.” And yet, I managed to get laid. Even if it was “right guy, right place, at the right time.” But it meant I had to clean myself up, get dressed, leave the house, go outside, and in my particular case, go to the bar. But it happened. And I didn’t have Mystery helping me out. I didn’t have the internet and YouTube. I wasn’t able to be a “keeper of records.”

But then the mid 90’s came along and I was able to find things in backs of magazines that then turned into catalogs sent to me by mail, which turned into targeted advertising that was also sent to me by mail. Cassette tapes, books, and eventually DVD’s started showing up for me. Of course I was paying for the majority of them, and most of them, just like today, sucked ass. I had become a consumer of seduction material. I had become a “keeper of records.” And that’s how I spent much of my 20’s into my early 30’s. Lots of material, little putting it to use. I could have been the proto “all of my experience is in the abstract guy.”

Which is what got me to thinking about what I’m writing right now.

Guys, are you going to be “keepers of records,” quoting Rich, Rollo, Rian, Roosh, Roissy, and whoever else comes along? Or are you actually going to do something with the information that you have so much easy access to? Which way, internet man?

If Dante takes my advice, the server will be losing most, if not almost all of its text channels. If you fuckers want to learn something, you’ll have to jump on and actually be a part of a verbal conversation. I’m sure some of you will record it “for future use,” which is where you will miss the point entirely, but maybe some of you will remember the “nuggets.” The bits and pieces that gives you that “Aha!” moment. Don’t worry, I won’t be offended if you can’t remember that I said it. I don’t expect you to be able to quote me, that’s not why I’m here.

You guys want to go and be the “keeper of records?” That’s fine by me. You’ll also probably be the guy, sitting in his room, jerking off to Pornhub or whatever the next latest and greatest will be. Or you’ll be that guy, the one sitting on whatever replaces Facebook and Twitter, talking about how you’ve been in the “redpill scene” since the time of Rollo. How you were there when the Rational Male first came out. You’ll reminisce about the days of when Tate got crucified on the internet and about how F&F was a thing, those silly bastards. You’ll laugh about the guys who have sex dolls, while hoping that no one finds out that you too, have a sex doll. But goddammit, you got those links, those videos. You are keeping those records, man.

I’m going to leave you with this, which also happens to be one of mine:

If you guys out there, aren’t getting what you need from me, or my interpretation of the message, then somehow I have failed you. More importantly, YOU have failed you. I can’t sit here and spoon feed this stuff to you for the rest of your lives. At some point, you’re going to have to jump off into the deep end and swim. You’re going to have to join the club. You’re going to have to commit to it too. You will be initiated. Whether you want to be or not. Whether you are ready or not. Your own futures depend on it.

I Am The Shadow.

I love it.

I’ve come to really, truly, realize that this blog has not only been about me and my “Red Pill Journey,” which is what it started out to be, but it’s about me exploring and ultimately owning, my Shadow. Hell, it took me until very recently that that was what I was doing.

With posts like Villain, Hedonist, and Desire, how could I not really see it? I did, but maybe I didn’t. Maybe I’m just fucking with you at this moment. Maybe not. That’s for you to figure out.

The Shadow. A term that Carl Jung came up with back in the day if memory serves me correctly. My college professors would be shaking their heads in shame for the fact that I spent the money and now I’ll be damned if I can’t remember all the hoopla over Jung and the Shadow.

The Shadow, if I recall correctly, is that “part” of you that you find undesirable. It’s the “part” that you ignore or hold some sort of guilt and shame over. It’s the “part” that you don’t want to acknowledge. I get it. There’s a lot of things about me that when I was younger, I was told was undesirable about me. Let me give you a brief list of the things that I would consider my Shadow.

I’m self-centered.

I’m talkative and can be abrasive.

I put my needs before other people’s needs.

I can be insensitive.

I’m impatient.

I’m intolerant.

I’m one horny motherfucker.

I like sex.

I can be the laziest motherfucker you’ve ever met, and I’m okay with that.

I get off on other people’s suffering.

That’s good enough for now. That’s a good “starter list.”

These are all “traits” or behaviors that most of polite society would consider to be undesirable. I know I’ve met plenty of women that have frowned on some of these traits or characteristics.

Here’s a screenshot of one of the latest encounters I’ve had recently:

I mentioned on the most recent Let ‘Em Burn (at least at the time of this writing) that I met a woman and I stirred up her outrage and indignation with a comment: “I DNGAF about the children. Yours, or anyone else’s.” I smirked and she nearly shit. The fire in her eyes was incredible. What did she do? She kissed me. And then the next day she sent me that text that I screenshot for you.

When she and I met, she asked me the standard fare of questions, including, “What are you looking for?” To which I told her straight up, in plain english, “I’m a Lover. I’m not looking for buddies to hang out with. I’m not looking for friends. Sex has to be on the menu for me.”

Call this “Mode One.” Call it “taking out the mystery.” Call it what you will. I don’t care.

I embraced my Shadow after I got everything everyone told me was the “Keys to Success.” I had the house, the job, the wife, the college degree, the toys, the respect of my peers, the approval of my family, and enough money to live a comfortable lifestyle. I had it all.

And at the end I was so miserable that eating a shotgun shell was more appealing than living.

So I embraced my Shadow. I embraced all of those things that I was told that I shouldn’t embrace. I embraced my sexual desires. I embraced my enjoyment of booze. I embraced being loud, obnoxious, talkative. I embraced being heard as well as seen. I embraced being forward, blunt, and to the point. Why not? The alternative was suicide or an endless misery of existence. It definitely wasn’t living.

“M” in the first screenshot of this post mentioned that “some people do whatever they can to avoid exploring their shadow, while the rest lean into it.” (italics are mine)

I definitely lean into it, and why not? I already “did the time,” I might as well “commit the crime.”

Guys, it’s my life. And I’m closer to dying every minute of every day. To quote Aaron Clarey, “I have less time ahead of me than behind me.” So fuck it. I’m going to do me. There’s nothing to be afraid of. All of the nonsense is just that, it’s nonsense. It’s all in your head.

When you really “lean into” not giving a fuck, everything changes. Do I always “get the girl?” No. Perhaps I “came on too strong” for the woman in that earlier screenshot. Perhaps my straight-forward demeanor was too much for her. Maybe she had “buyer’s remorse.” Maybe it had nothing at all to do with me whatsoever. I don’t care. Ultimately it doesn’t matter. There’s always another woman.

So how do you “integrate your Shadow?” Your Shadow isn’t a separate thing. It’s you. Like I said in the first screenshot: “Spirit” and “Body” aren’t separate. They are One.”

Your Shadow isn’t this “thing” outside of you, it’s you. Sure, it’s the things that you either don’t like about yourself, or it’s the things that “society, culture, family, etc” has told you NOT to like about yourself, but it’s all you. So accept it and own it. Stop caring about it and just own it. Be the Villain. You’re going to be the Villain in somebody’s story, might as well be good with that.

You can go on ignoring those things that you don’t like about yourself, or those things that you’ve been told NOT to like about yourself. You can do that until you end up looking down the barrel of a shotgun, or you can accept those things and be okay with those things. You can own it. It’s what I did.

You know what?

My life got geometrically better when I just owned that stuff. So own yours. Own and “integrate” your Shadow. There’s worse scenarios for you if you don’t.

She Bit Me Out Of Compulsion While I Was Petting Her.

H/t to James Streissand on Twitter for this post’s “food for thought.”

It’s currently Sunday Evening, August 28th, 2022 as I sit here and write this. The belly dancer has gone home and “Velvet” is doing her thing, whatever it is that she’s doing. Aside from Rian Stone morphing into the new “Jordan B Tate-Peterson” and fucking with the Twitter bros, it’s been a fairly quiet afternoon/evening on the internet.

August is almost over. School is either back in session or will begin very shortly, depending on where you live. Summer is almost gone. Hello, Autumn. Goodbye to hot temperatures and welcome cooler mornings and evenings. Soon it will be the changing of the colors and the Reaping will commence. Welcome the Harvest. If there is a harvest to be had.

Back to the title of this post though:

Yesterday while the belly dancer was with me, she was sitting next to me, touching my neck and shoulder, and then she leaned over and bit me. This isn’t the first time she has done that. It’s also not the first time I’ve had a woman bite me for literally no other reason than that she could. I have done the same. Perhaps it is a “compulsion” as James put it. At least that is how the belly dancer put it to me when I remarked on what she had just done.

“I don’t know. I just had to do it.

I get it. When I have found myself biting a woman, it was literally for no other reason than I felt that I had to. My desire for her was so strong in that moment that there was literally nothing else that I could do that would satisfy that craving.

That led me to thinking about kissing.

I may be wrong, but I believe that humans are the only species of animal on the planet that kiss as a form of desire, bonding, and connection. You can train a primate to do it, but it’s pretty much a parlor trick if you do.

I’m sure that the internet will be more than happy to show me the error of my ways, with mountains of links, studies, and literature, if I’m incorrect. And if I am, so be it, I’ll learn something new.

Kissing is more important to me than even “fornication.” (LOL)

I’m laughing because of something that happened on Twitter over the weekend, but my statement remains unaltered. Kissing is actually more important to me than the act of sex. How a woman kisses is more important to me than how she fucks.

I can deal with a woman who is “ho-hum” in the sack, as long as she excited about having sex with me, I’m good. I can teach her things if she wants to be a willing student. And over time, she learns things and sometimes even shows me things that I haven’t experienced or thought of.

But the kissing…

If she’s the kind of woman who just “pecks,” that’s a turn-off to me. If she’s the type of woman that is wild and all over the place when kissing me, I usually feel like I just got licked by a dog. I’m not a big fan of that either, although it is better, by a small degree, than a woman who just pecks.

Thinking about women who slobber-kiss, that reminds me of an old flame from my youth. While she was my first sexual experience, she wasn’t my first kiss. But then again, I was a teenager and had only kissed a few girls before her, and so my experience there was also extremely limited. In 2015, after I had gotten divorced, I had a chance opportunity where I had run into this old flame. 25 years later, we crossed paths once again.

I remember talking to her and catching up. I also remember that she left way more of an impression on me than I ever did on her apparently. It took her a moment to recognize me and remember who I was. I also remember eventually getting her back to my place. Two adults closing in on middle age now, instead of the literal children we had been when we first met.

I also remember us kissing, again, after 25 years….

And she slobbered all over me like a dog.

I vaguely recall that was how she kissed when we were young, but back then, like I said a moment ago, my experience with kissing was extremely limited. Not so much anymore. All I can remember of that particular night in 2015, while she was slobbering on my face, was thinking, “What the fuck? Woah, slow down the waterworks and ease up a bit.”

I’m laughing about it now as I’m writing this. I didn’t leave much of an impression on her from all the way, “back in the day,” but she sure as hell left a “new” impression with me. Slobber-kisser.

I may sound “mean” saying that, but there it is.

I remember my Bosnian woman from about a year ago. She too, was all over the place with her kissing. I loved her enthusiasm, but baby needed to get her tongue under control instead of trying to pierce my lungs via my throat with it.

James, if you happen to read this, and I hope you do, thank you.

Thanks for the tweet that you made and put out to the world. Thanks for sharing that brief moment with me. It unlocked a slew of memories for me and it made me realize one of my priorities when it comes to women.

Ah kissing. There’s nothing better than a great kiss.