Picking up women is a hobby usually practiced after the sun sets. Don’t pretend that nightclubs, lounges and most bars aren’t catered towards lonely losers looking to lay some ladies. When you dress up in your Friday night best and hit the nightlife circuit, you’re competing with countless other guys looking to scale the castle walls and take the
princess slut home. A lone shark in a tiny pool desperately racing for chum, inflating the egos of the women you all hit on, increasing the chances that the only woman you’ll be going home with is Rosie Palmer.
What if there was a way to avoid all that? A way to meet attractive women without having to deal with cockblockers, ridiculous cover charges and the other assorted bullshit of nightlife?
During my time in the oil patch, my best friend was Billy, a kid I’d met on a insulation job near the Little Muddy River. Billy was a great example of how the hydrofracking boom was benefiting men who were down on their luck. He had come to North Dakota from the Deep South with literally nothing but the clothes on his back, after spending much of the past few years variously abusing meth and living on the streets, his home life an utter mess. A month of temping in Williston and he’d earned enough to not only feed himself, but buy a laptop, a cell phone, an MP3 player and stash a good deal away.
But goddamn, Billy was dumb.
Another installment of my article on the top ten albums of 2012 is up now at Colin Liddell’s music blog. Click here to read it.
How does the idea of learning how to be more attractive to the opposite sex appeal to you?
Does it intrigue you?
Does it disgust you?
Does it not matter one way or the other?
Now everyone who answered yes to either of the last two questions, kindly recuse yourselves; you’re fucking liars.
Suck it up; everyone wants to be sexually desirable. It’s a fundamental part of human psychology: the desire to be accepted by others. The idea of making yourself more attractive is nothing new for women; put on your lipstick, slip on the high heels, stuff your bra with Kleenex and the boys will be none the wiser. Strangely enough, both women and men are resistant to the idea of men doing the equivalent. Men are told to dress well and make money, yet everyone has at least one example of a dirtbag (drug dealer, guitarist in a crappy band etc.) who breaks these rules and still gets the ladies. Even worse, you might be told to “just be yourself.”
My Right Stuff article on feminists’ response to the North Dakota oil boom is now up at AltRight:
Meanwhile, both the NYT and Gawker Media (Jezebel’s parent company) are based in New York, one of the most economically depressed states in the union. The state’s deficit is one of the largest, taxes are high and going higher, and Governor Andrew Cuomo is a brazen sociopath who is more concerned with stealing guns out of the hands of law-abiding citizens than addressing the fact that nobody wants to live in the Empire State anymore.
Click here to read the rest.
As I mentioned two weeks ago when I shuttered the comments on this blog, if you really want to respond to something I’ve written, you should get your own fucking blog. I think everyone (and by that, I mean everyone with an IQ over 120) should have a blog. My friend Edengard has just started a blog, and you should make like him for the following reasons:
1. Blogging makes you a better writer.
People who’ve read my writing ask me how I got to be a such a good writer, and the answer is because I actually write. I’ve been blogging in one form or another since I was in high school. Politics, humor, porn: I’ve done it all. But even before that, I’d been writing since I was old enough to read. I’m a good writer because I’ve been practicing for the better part of twenty years.
As I’ve mentioned before, periods of incredible pain and bad luck in my life are followed with periods of amazing good fortune. After landing in Snoqualmie, on the fringe of Seattle’s eastern exurbs, I not only found myself up $20 and a free dinner, but free bus fare to Seattle.
Here are some pictures from the last few days of my trip.
The next installment of my article on the top ten albums of 2012 is up at Colin Liddell’s music blog. Click here to read it.
I’m going to drop a bit of truth here that will likely piss some of you off:
There is very little in the manosphere that is original.
A collective of men who’ve shucked off mainstream society to fuck girls, quaff beer and do obscene amounts of illegal drugs? No really, it’s been done before, going all the way back to the days of Rome. Hemingway, Bukowski, Miller; this path was worn deep long before we took our first baby steps.
I’m also going to drop some more truth:
The fact that the manosphere isn’t very original DOESN’T MATTER.
This is a guest post by Didact.
There is nothing quite like getting hit between the eyes with a strong dose of the truth. There is nothing that prepares you for the epiphany that follows when you realise that you have been ripped off, lied to, and kept in the dark for much of your life… and that you can do something about it.
This is how I felt when I first became exposed to the Manosphere a few years ago. Actually, let’s call the Manosphere what it is: the truth. The truth that men and women are not the same, and should never act like they are. The truth that feminism has done appalling damage to the health of our society. The truth that socialism is and will always be a diseased abomination, a fundamental violation of the God-blessed natural rights that are yours from birth. The truth that government, if left to itself, will enslave you, while claiming that it is trying to protect you. The truth that playing by the rules is not rewarded, that hard work and sacrifice no longer hold value. The truth that the global economic system has fallen off a cliff, and that it will not survive in its current form.