Tag: manosphere

Seattle Is Dying

Rob SaysLeave a comment
scrap metal trash litter scrapyard
Modern Day Seattle

The other night, Sunday night or technically Monday morning while I was having another bout with sleeplessness, I watched this item:

I call it an item because I’ve got a whole lot of mixed feelings about it.

First off, I actually think it is fairly non-biased as far as current, modern journalism goes. The guys who did it seemed pretty fair in their take on what is going on in Seattle. I’ll admit when it comes to MSM, I figure just about all of it is bullshit propaganda meant to brainwash the viewer into buying into the current narrative, but this one didn’t seem like that.

I have mixed feelings about it because I remember when I went to Seattle back in 2004. Now granted I only spent a week there, and I didn’t get to see as much of Seattle as I would have liked, but I did get to see quite a bit. What I remember about Seattle is that it was beautiful, very green, and at the time, especially for the size of the city and its population, it was really clean.

Not so much anymore. At least from what you will see in this video. Seattle has literally become an actual, honest to god, shithole. On one hand, I’m actually shocked and saddened to see this. It was a beautiful city. I almost wanted to cry when I saw the amount of garbage in the streets. This is in modern day America. How could such a beautiful city look like something from a third world nation? How did we go so low?

I almost cried. Almost.

I know how Seattle got to where it’s at. I’m pretty sure you do too. It got where it’s at because this is what the voting citizen’s of Seattle wanted. They voted this shit in. This is what happens when you vote for liberal/progressive policies, procedures, and politicians.

I said I had mixed emotions about it and I do. I’m sad and yet I’m not. I’m shocked, but not really. For the most part, I do believe Seattle gets what it deserves. Citizens of Seattle, you voted for this, it’s what you wanted. Now you get to sleep in the shit and the filth and the drugs because this is what you wanted. You get the crime and the despair because you would rather virtue signal your ultra liberal bullshit ideology. I hope you choke and gag on the odor of feces and urine as it wafts through your streets and through your windows. It’s what you wanted. You voted for it. You made your bed, now lie in it.

If I was a tourist and I went to current day Seattle, I promise I would never go back. Hell, just watching the video has made me think, “yeah, I don’t think so.” There’s nothing there worth putting up with the homeless camps, the drug paraphrenalia, and the garbage. There’s nothing I would want to see in Seattle anymore. Other parts of Washington? Okay, sure. But Seattle itself? No thank you. You guys can keep your garbage piles to yourself. I’ll take my tourist dollars somewhere else, I’ll vote with my wallet.

Apparently San Francisco is the same way, from what I’ve heard anyways. Same type of problems. That’s because of the same type of bullshit politics. The dipshit voters in San Francisco vote like the dipshit voters in Seattle. Imagine my surprise. Color me shocked. Another shithole in modern America. Go figure.

I have been talking to my Brothers from Masculine Geek about this and I’ve told both of them to come out to Utah and check it out. Now Utah isn’t perfect. It’s no “promised land” or any kind of a “mecca.” But Seattle or San Francisco it ain’t. I’m pretty sure that’s due to the mostly conservative voting and the religion of the region.

I told my Brothers to come out here and check it out and I meant it. Maybe they will find the time some time this summer or fall to come out here and spend some time seeing what’s to be seen and to hang out with me. Maybe they will like it enough that they will want to stay. Maybe I can get them to move out here. That would be pretty awesome if that happened. I’m still trying to envision what actually living near other red pilled Men would be like.

I’m trying to envision what having a physical tribe, an actual geographically close group of Men that hold the same values, views, opinions, and goals would look like. How cool would that be? We have accomplished a lot in a short time, and we have done all of it so far via computer screens, phone calls, texts, and e-mails. What the fuck else could we do in actual close physical proximity to each other?

What if we did that and it worked out so well for us that other Men and even their families wanted to do the same? Whether they came to Utah too, or they connected with each other in other parts of the country and moved closer to one another? What else would be possible? What kind of a reality can we create for ourselves by the simple act of being in closer proximity to one another? What if doing something like this is the next step? What if this how we slow or even reverse the decline? What if this is the next logical move?

It starts with reading blogs, watching videos, interacting on social media, which then turns into phone calls, texts, and skype calls. Which turns into getting in a car, jumping on an airplane, getting on a train and going for a visit. Maybe a few days, a week, or a couple of weeks. Which turns into looking into housing, jobs, and ultimately actually making a move. Picking up your belongings, packing your stuff and your family and making a move. Being closer to one another. Being closer to Yours, or in this case, Us.

How fucking cool would that be?

It may not be easy, but anything worthwhile is never easy. It takes time, but not nearly as much as you think it would take. It’s something that is real, tangible, and can actually happen. You just need to want it bad enough and be willing to do what it takes to get there.

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Journey Into The Desert

Rob SaysLeave a comment

arizona asphalt beautiful blue sky

“Close Your Eyes, Look Deep In Your Soul. Step Outside Yourself, And Let Your Mind Go.”

One of the things that I love to do when motorcycling is go into the desert.

The feel of the heat of the sun beating down on me, the whip of the wind against my face, the vibration of the machine beneath me.

No radio on, nothing but the sound of the wind in my ears, the hum of the road, and the rumble of the engine.

Nothing to do but ride, be in the moment, and be alone with my thoughts when they show up.

When you are riding a motorcycle, you have no problems, at least for the time that you are riding. Whatever troubles and concerns you have back in the world, melt and fade away.

There’s nothing quite as exquisite as a woman behind you, tightening her grip around your waist with her hands and her hips as you twist down on the throttle and give the iron horse more juice.

There’s nothing as exquisite as riding into the desert. Yes I know that sounds cliche, but the cliche exists for a reason. There really is nothing like riding into the desert. The smell of the hot tarmac, the sand grit blowing against you, stinging, even the occasional bug that kills itself against your goggles as you fly towards it at close to 100 miles per hour. Even spitting sand out of your mouth when you stop for gas or a stretch is a small blessing in and of itself. It may not be a pretty picture or thought, but it’s a blessing nonetheless. Why is that? Why, it’s because you are still alive! Alive.

Alive and in the desert. Where the desert doesn’t know your name, doesn’t care where you came from, doesn’t care where you are going, and doesn’t care if you stay or go. The desert doesn’t care about you or your existence. In fact, the desert is merciless enough, that if you aren’t careful, you may never leave it’s embrace. Just another set of sun-bleached bones slowly sinking into the sand and the earth if you don’t watch your back.

The heat can and will blister your skin lobster red and peel it right off of you in a New York minute. The heat will sap you of all your energy, all your water, your will, if you let it.

But the sights you will see! The sounds that you will hear when you shut the bike down, take a deep, deep breath, breathing in the desert, her scent; the sounds come forth! Sounds you will never hear in the concrete jungle. The sound of silence. The sound of a million tiny things, living their million tiny lives, struggling against the desert itself for their own survival.

The desert is a harsh mistress, but she is beyond beautiful. Look carefully around you and what do you see?

Life in abundance! A million life forms growing and thriving, in spite of the desert. But the desert gives as well as it takes. You just have to know where to look and to look for it.

There! 50 feet away is a spot where there is water. You can tell because of the sparse vegetation that is growing there. Huddled around the hidden water like players on a field in a huddle before a play.

Over in the other direction is food if you dig but a little bit. You did bring a knife didn’t you?

And the nights in the desert. Oh the nights! The stars! The galaxies that reveal themselves in all their majesty! Millions upon billions of them! You never see them in the light pollution of the city.

How small and insignificant we are compared to the vastness above us. How utterly and infinitely tiny we are! No bigger than the grain of sand that we pick out of our ears or hair! And yet, here we are!

Riding season is coming up again, it’s time to get the Machine out of the garage, wake her from her slumber, give her a bath and a wax, and go to the desert.

The desert has a siren song, and it’s calling my name, calling to me.

Beckoning. Come, come, come….

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Single Mother’s Raising Sons

Rob Says2 Comments
woman holding baby while sitting on fur bean bag
Ain’t It Cute? Awww…

So the other day at work, I got a helper, we’ll call him “John,” who went out on route with me.

While we were out doing our thing, and kicking ass at it I might add, having an extra set of hands will do wonders for productivity and efficiency, John and I got to bullshitting…

John is 30 years old. He’s on his second marriage, and between him and his wife, they have six children. (Talk about the Brady Bunch.)

Anyways, John’s marriage is decaying. He’s thinking of leaving her.

There’s trust issues on both sides. Apparently he started “dating” a while back when they separated. Then they got back together. Now she’s about to branch swing.

Branch swinging for those that don’t know, is when a woman is finding another man and is getting ready to jump out of her current relationship.

I know she’s branch swinging because John told me about it. She’s not being sly or coy. She’s told him that she’s met some dude and he’s “really cute,” and he “really understands her.” But they are “just friends.”

For now at least.

John’s marriage is a shit show to say the least.

His wife went to court for selling alcohol to a minor at her job. She got caught in a sting and one of the results of her poor decisions was that she lost her job, and now she’s facing fines from the court. From what he told me, she has a “hard time” holding down a job.

She knows how to push his buttons and push them she does. He knows her’s as well.

Like I said, it’s a shit show.

The biggest red flag that I heard about though, is that she is a drug addict.

She injects meth.

Meth is probably the worst of the bad news when it comes to drugs. At least in my opinion. And injecting it?
Whoa.

I don’t know what the street lingo is these days for injecting drugs, but when I was younger, it was called “Mainlining.”

Mainlining is a huge deal. Injecting drugs gives an instantaneous hit, whatever that hit is. It goes straight into the bloodstream and straight to the heart and brain. Whether it’s a stimulant, like meth, or a depressant like heroin, it’s effects when injected are immediate. It’s worse than snorting or smoking a drug.

If you or someone you know is injecting drugs, you have serious problems ahead of you if not already.

Seriously, it doesn’t get worse than this.

John grew up with an absentee father. His Dad was working all the time or wasn’t very attentive and active with his children. So his mother became his role model so to speak.

He’s a good looking guy, he takes care of himself and is really physically fit. He’s easy on the eyes for the ladies, I know, because I watched him and them interact throughout the day. I would even say John has decent game.

John is also a White Knight to a degree and is definitely a Captain Save a Ho. He’s trying to save his wife from herself. I get it. I would want to help my wife too. Problem is, she doesn’t want to be saved. She enjoys her lifestyle and her habits, and he enables her.

John told me that the only person he has ever feared in his life is his mother. I don’t really have the words.

He still fears her. To me, it explains a lot of his behavior towards his wife and to women in general. He’s looking for that approval from them. He basically is trying to do “the right thing.” To be a “good boy.”

Because he’s looking for approval from the women in his life, he’s made his life about the women in it. They are the Mission. They come first. They are his focus.

Do you guys do that?

Do you make the women in your life your central focus?

Do you seek their approval in who you are and what you do?

Do you let them define what a “good man” is for you?

Do you let them define your masculinity?

A long time ago, I did.

And it got me nothing but confusion, heartache, sorrow, and bitterness.

It’s a dark road going that way, letting a woman define and decide who and what you are.

If you let them define your masculinity for you, it will be to their betterment, not yours.

Our society is so ingrained with this way of thinking that it has become the norm. It’s part of why boys and men today are so feminine. It’s also why both men and women are so confused and unhappy with each other as a whole, as genders.

Women need to stop defining what masculinity is for men.

For our part as men, we need to stop listening to women telling us how to be men. We need to stop sitting at their knees.

That’s what father’s are for, ideally. If not your father, then another man. Not your mother. Not your sister(s), not your girlfriend, and not your wife.

Men define masculinity. We know best about that because we are masculine, we are men.

There’s a saying going around the interwebs, and it’s something like this:

Don’t ask a fish how to fish, ask a fisherman how to fish.

Don’t ask a woman how to be a man, or what makes a “good man.” She doesn’t know, she’s not a man. Oh don’t get me wrong, she’ll have all sorts of ideas of what she thinks makes a good man, but she has her head up her ass and is up in the night about this one. She truly has no clue.

Don’t ask a woman how to “pick up” or seduce women. She doesn’t know that either. You want to know about picking up women, ask guys who pick up women and are really good at it.

In my family, there was one member that has seen it and done it all. They had an opinion on everything and how you should do “it”, whatever that was. Can you guess who that family member was?

It was my mother.

I love her dearly, but goddamn, the woman needed to shut her gob sometimes.

I’ve learned if I want to truly get things done, especially quickly and efficiently, I talk to my father. His advice to me has been practical and priceless. He doesn’t say much, he just does. He also keeps the “you should’s” and “you ought to’s” to a minimum.

To wrap it up, I leave you with this:

Women aren’t perfect, I love that they try. My mom did the best she could with the limited knowledge and skills that she had. I’m sure it’s the same for your mother’s as well. Don’t be dicks to them.

But stop listening to what women think a man should be. Stop letting them define your masculinity for you. Stop seeking their approval. You can virtue signal all you want to them, they still won’t fuck you.

We men don’t have to answer to women. We can have our own ideas about what is being a man and being masculine without having to submit or consult with women. You do not need their approval.

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