A Case For “Normalcy”

man couple love laptop

Maybe it’s just been my experience, but one of the things that I have noticed for a while now on Twitter is that many of the guys in that space have “a little spot of the ’tism.” (h/t Rian Stone for that phrase.)

What do I mean by this? Most of the guys aren’t “normal.” Being normal has gotten a bad rap these days apparently. Being normal means that you are still plugged in, doing the blue pill fantasy, being a consumer, and watching and believing in mainstream media I guess.

But here’s my case for “normalcy.”:

“Normal” guys tend to have women in their lives. Whether it be a girlfriend, wife, or some sort of significant other, there’s women in the picture. At least that has been my experience with guys who are normal.

You can hang out with “normal” guys. This is a big one for me. I can have a conversation with a “normal” guy. Our conversations don’t only revolve around the red pill or politics, we can talk about music, cars, different places to eat and vacation, and a host of other topics.

“Normal” guys tend to have a variety of interests. They aren’t fixated on only one or two things. They might go to the gym, but that’s not all they do and they don’t live there. They enjoy the company of women, but chasing skirt isn’t their only goal. They like their video games, but they aren’t doing 48 hour marathons of World of Warcraft. They like their firearms but they aren’t obsessing over the “End Times.” They may have their religious convictions, but they aren’t forcing Jesus down my throat and trying to convert me to the cause. They love their kids (if they have them) but their kids aren’t the centers of their universes. They have plans and goals, but they don’t need to map out the next twenty years of their lives on a spreadsheet.

If you find yourself doing anything that I’ve mentioned above, you may have a little spot of the ’tism.

I’ve met plenty of guys online and I plan on continuing to do so. If we’ve met because you found my blog, my Twitter handle, or my YouTube channel, that’s awesome to me. I’ve achieved one of my personal goals. If we are ever to meet in real life though, please be normal. I talk enough about the red pill online that I would rather get to know you, not hear you rehash something I said or that someone else said. I don’t mind a mention about it here or there, but I don’t want that to be the only thing we talk about. I can talk to you about that online and keep it there.

I love women’s company about as much or maybe even more than the next guy, but I don’t want to spend all day talking about pussy. I had a roommate back in college who let his dick run his life. All day long all he wanted to do was talk about pussy. The pussy he got, the pussy he wanted to get, the pussy that I got, and the pussy that got away. I would try and change the topic after awhile and move on to something else, and he would end up bringing it back to pussy. It got old. I remember telling him that there was more to life than pussy. I remember moving out shortly after that conversation as well. Life is too short.

Carl from Black Label Logic made a great tweet the other day.

He said:

I find the best acid-test for allowing people into your life consists of 1 question, 4 contexts: Would I be comfortable:

1. bringing this person to thanksgiving dinner

2. a work function with my boss and all my co-workers

3. night out with the boys

4. dinner with so/gf/plate

This goes even beyond “The Beer Test.” I’m sure that I’ve mentioned it before on this blog, but I’ll be damned if I can find the post. Maybe I just talked about it on Twitter at some point, but it goes simply like this:

“Would I want to sit down and have a beer with this guy and shoot the shit?” If yes, then he’s probably okay. If not, then I have my answer.

Carl takes it another step, which I happen to like. It made me realize that while there are some guys out there that I would have a beer with, there are very few that I would invite to dinner with my women, work, or family or go hang out with the boys. That’s sad to me, but that’s the level of ’tism that is going on out there.

So the takeaway for today boys and girls, is this:

You want to be more successful with women? Try being a little more normal. You want to be liked in a social setting? Try being a little more normal. You want to have some guy friends, especially “red pilled” guy friends? Try being a little more normal. Dial the ’tism back a notch or two.

You don’t have to be the “Most Interesting Man In The World.” You just have to be interesting. And be normal for the love of god.

Sharpen Your Mind. Weaponize It. Start here and here. Sign up for my newsletter.

Life After the Red Pill — Some Thoughts

“If you meet a Buddha, kill the Buddha. If you meet a Ghost, kill the Ghost” — Zen koan

I listened to Rob and Jack Napier the other day, discussing life after the Red Pill. Nothing that I haven’t heard before or have thought before. Just one more person, or two, saying it.

The fuzziness of my memory notwithstanding, I got my first taste of the Red Pill in 1989.  (Shit!)  I was in my freshman year at a small college in southeastern Kentucky. (A story for another time.) I was miserable, because I realized that I had been seduced by the glossy brochures and the claims that the “college experience” at the school was what I was looking for. It wasn’t. The college was small, the town was small (Walmart was the main shopping experience . . . let that sink in), and it was in Southern Baptist country. My only saving graces were that my second semester roommate, who was from southern Georgia, and I got along decently and shared many interests, and that the college library was fairly well stocked, so that I could go there most nights and read to my heart’s content. Oh, and there was some pretty good hiking to be had, since the college was in a green valley.

Other than that, I planned my escape the fourth week I was there. I then returned home to northeastern Ohio and attended another small college, but lived at home with my parents and worked at part-time jobs.

My second Red Pill dosage came with the jobs I worked, which were a mix of labor and service jobs, specific to that area and that time (pre-Internet). As to be expected, most of the jobs sucked, but not because of the job itself. (I, for one, tended to enjoy the night shift and work in warehouses.) It was because of the people. As the saying goes, “Work would be great if it weren’t for the people.” How true that was then, and how true that was now.

Part of my Red Pill dosage at that time was learning that the vast hordes of humanity are just there, taking up space, and filling the air with vocal utterances. Words and actions often didn’t match up, even though I expected them to. Of course, this was me still purging the legacy of having grown up in a stable household (yes, I aver to that claim) and dealing with jobs where things were more or less cut and dried. That slowly changed over time, as I was about to find out.

My third Red Pill dosage came when I was in South Korea in the mid-90s, teaching English. The year prior, I was enmeshed in a bad relationship, most of which was my fault. I was immature and didn’t know how to have a relationship, other than showing up and scheduling bedroom fun time. That failed relationship was a severe blow to my sense of identity and agency, and it took me several months to recover. Good thing that I was intending to go over to South Korea when I could, regardless of my state of mind at the time.

My fourth Red Pill dosage came after South Korea, when I undertook a career change from teaching to IT. The difficulties were those that I’ve since encountered again and again: e.g., HR Karens, online systems that create a Kafkaesque environment, waste-of-time interviews where the other person either isn’t the right one to interview you or that person doesn’t know what they want, and radio silence unless the employer says “hell, yes!” and pulls out all the stops to hire you. It’s frustrating, aggravating, debilitating, and dehumanizing. Yet, better you learn this earlier rather than later.

My fifth Red Pill dosage came when I was in the U.S. Army. There, I saw many of the dramatis personae I had seen in years prior, with other, added grotesqueries. I was in my early 30s, so this Red Pill dose was, really, just a booster shot.

So, then this leaves early 2010, when I got out of the Army after six years on active duty, my move here to where I’ve been living for the past ten years, a few job changes, and my introduction to the Red Pill “community” and the players within it.

What’s my assessment? Overall, it’s been great stuff, and I’ve learned a lot. However, the bloom has fallen off the rose, as it does, inevitably, with many things, and now I’m in the same position as Rob, I feel. I’m older now, slower, creakier, more winded, and, I hope, ostensibly wiser. Would reading, listening, or watching other Red Pill content serve me? Maybe, but in ever-diminishing amounts. I check in every once in a while, but I’ve absorbed a lot, to the point where I should be producing more and consuming less.

Which then leads me to my earlier point . . .

If you see Vince, Rob, TJ, Aaron, Rich, Rollo, etc. on the road, kill them.

Not literally, of course, but figuratively.

Kill your gurus, in other words, youz mugs.  Myeah.

Or, to quote Ludwig Wittgenstein:

My propositions serve as elucidations in the following way: anyone who understands me eventually recognizes them as nonsensical, when he has used them — as steps — to climb beyond them. (He must, so to speak, throw away the ladder after he has climbed up it.)
He must transcend these propositions, and then he will see the world aright.

Time to go play in the sun, see.  Myeah.

And take that left turn at Albuquerque.

A Case Of “The One”

adult blur bokeh bright

“Stanley” is another co-worker of mine. He’s a fairly young man, around the age of 27 or 28. He’s not originally from Utah and at least as long as I have known him, he’s been morbidly obese.

Stanley had gastric bypass surgery not too long ago, within the last 6 months and he’s losing a lot of weight and he’s beginning to look good. Stanley is also a guy that if I had to guess, has never had sex with a woman. He just gives off that “vibe.” He’s more of the guy that likes to play his video games and hang out with his buds.

Stanley made an announcement at work the other day. He’s moving on. He’s moving to Arizona.  That’s all he said to the majority of us. I found out his reasons as to why he’s moving though. It’s because of a girl.

Apparently Stanley has had some sort of “long distance” relationship with this woman. He’s known her for at least six years, or maybe it’s eight years. The time that he’s known her is a little “fluid,” if you get what I mean.

From what I gather, she’s a “good girl,” she goes to church, which is where and how they met those six or eight long years ago. According to Stanley, he’s found his “One.” He’s ready to uproot his life, his job, where he lives, and run off into the desert of Arizona to be with her.

On one hand, he’s pulling a “Go Big or Go Home” move, which I can appreciate. I don’t know if the guy really knows what he wants, I highly doubt it given what he’s doing, but hey, his determination is there and I can admire that.

The fact that he’s willing to literally give up and trade in his entire life over a woman is the part that has me shaking my head. In some ways, I literally don’t have the words. I don’t have the words for Stanley at least. The guy isn’t just setting himself on fire, he’s self-immolating. This is taking it to an extreme. There is literally nothing I can do for him. He truly gets to burn.

He’s leaving in a few days to go to Arizona to make arrangements for his move in a couple of months. All I can do is shake my head and wave goodbye.

Goodbye Stanley, and godspeed. I hope things work out for you with your “One” and that you live happily-ever-after with her. May you truly find whatever it is that you are looking for. Amen.

No point in trying to talk to him, he’s made up his mind. Last rites commence.

For you guys reading this, I wish this was a work of fiction, some fantastical bullshit that I pulled out of my ass, but it’s not. It’s a true story.

I’ve mentioned guys in the past doing stupid shit and doing some really dumb things, but this one has to be maybe one of the worst. This is a guy who is gambling his future away on a “possibility.” A possibility of love and of sex. Because that’s what this is really about.

Desperation and thirst.

You want to run off and fuck strange pussy in another state? Fine. Do that. I’ve done it and I have no regrets. But you don’t uproot your life, quit your job, and move for that pussy. Go and have an adventure but don’t change your life for it.

Maybe I’m truly an anomaly. Or maybe I’ve had some common sense, a sense of self preservation, and at least a modicum of self esteem that would scream at me, “Dude! What the fuck are you doing? Don’t fucking do that!” to even entertain an idea of what Stanley is doing.

My father will be 70 years old in April. He was with my mother for almost 50 years total by the time she died. He’s now dating another woman and will probably be with her until he dies or until she kicks his ass to the curb, which ever comes first. He has never heard of the Red Pill, and has no idea about it or my involvement with other men in it. He’s very blue pilled when it comes to women, their nature, and relationships, but even he has a modicum of self preservation and self respect.

My father’s girlfriend suggested a little while ago for him to sell his house and then they would use the proceeds of that sale and buy a house in Mesquite, Arizona and live there in the winter and then live in her home in the summer.

My father’s exact words were, “You’re out of your fucking mind if you think I’m going to sell my house. Why don’t you sell yours? What happens to me if our relationship goes south and you give me the boot?”

Even my Boomer Dad, who’s pretty much computer illiterate and doesn’t really understand women’s natures, understands enough to know that you don’t gamble your whole life away on the prospect of pussy.

Guys, if you have done something like this, like what Stanley is doing, or if you are seriously considering doing it, I can’t help you. No one can. You are truly on your one when it comes to this one. You really get to burn.

Godspeed, good luck and all of that. Amen and goodbye.

Sharpen Your Mind. Weaponize It. Start here and here. Sign up for my newsletter.