The War is Over.

black vintage typewriter
We are like this old typewriter.  Somewhat still useful, but Obsolete.

Gentlemen, I’m going to say something and you’ll all probably have some sort of reaction to it. Hear me out before going off the deep end though.

We as Men are Obsolete.

The War on Feminism is Over. They already have won. They won a long time ago.

I’m not saying this because “nihilism.” I’m not saying it because “black pill.” I’m not saying it because “MGTOW.” I’m saying it because it’s the truth.

Feminism has been around before many of us, including yours truly, was even born.

We as Men are Obsolete.

Stop and think about it for a moment. Do women really and truly need us anymore? Not really. They’ve got sperm banks and cryo-freezing for their eggs. (Created and built by Men I might add.) We all know the “wage gap” is just a myth. Women can and do earn just as much as Men. They don’t need us for financial provisioning like in the days of yore. They can pretty much do whatever job it is that’s out there (don’t know about the quality of the work, but they can do it.)

They’ve got the State to take care of them and any children that they should happen to have or want.

When it comes to civil and political rights, they have their equality. They can vote in whomever they desire.

They don’t need us.

All of the talk that I see and hear on the interwebs about repealing the 19th… Yeah right. That will never happen in a million years. That cat is out of the bag and will never be put back in.

We cannot go back in time. Time travel doesn’t exist. Probably never will. We cannot go back to “the good ol’ days.” Put down the crack pipe please.

We most likely aren’t going to “save Christianity” from itself either. Feminism has infected it too. Like government from the local to the federal levels, it’s in all the denominations. I dare say that when it comes to any real “mainstream” publicly recognized religion, feminism has infected them all, or will, in due time. Even Islam.

There are no real “last bastions” left. The war is over.

If the idea of the Red Pill is about uncovering honest to god actual truths, then let’s be honest with ourselves. The war is over and has been for some time. Feminism has won.

That doesn’t mean fuck it all, give up, go MGTOW, or even “enjoy the decline.”

What am I talking about then?

Here’s what I’m talking about:

Stop treating Men and Women as adversaries. Stop treating it like a war. That’s what feminism wants.

Stop hoping that somehow, some way, we can “turn back the clock,” that we can somehow “turn it all around.” That’s like pissing into the wind.

What we can do though is acknowledge it, and go forward from there. It starts on the individual level. It starts with You.

It starts with a careful selecting of a woman who isn’t too infected by feminism. (Hint, they all are to one degree or another.) It starts with accepting a woman’s nature for what it is, and you won’t be able to change it. It starts with realizing that her nature is a part of her and that it is amoral. It starts with you realizing this, and you getting over the bitterness of this. It starts with you realizing that your assigning a moral or immoral definition to her behavior is a projection from you.

It starts with you stopping yourself from pandering to women in hopes of getting that Golden Pussy. (Hint, they all feel the same.)

It starts with you stopping yourself from giving attention to women in the hopes that somehow, some way, some day, they will see you for the greatness that you think you are, and then they will fall madly in love with you and then fuck you. (They won’t do either. Women will never love you in the way that you hope and want them to. That’s part of their nature as well.)

It starts with you stopping yourself from seeking a woman to save you from yourself. She isn’t your mother. She isn’t there to save you from yourself, only you can do that. No one else will.

Stop trying to recreate your mother in your relationships with women. It won’t end well.

It starts with you stopping yourself from seeking approval from a woman to do, well, anything. It’s your life, do what you will.

I’m not abdicating women from responsibility, but I’m not going to assign morality to what they do as a whole gender. Their behavior is what it is. It’s up to me when I’m dealing with them if I want to tolerate what it is that they are doing. You should do the same.

Being obsolete can be a good thing. If we are truly not needed, we can choose to do what we want with our lives. We don’t have to spend it in servitude to women or to the State if we don’t want to.

Cries of “Man Up!” lose their potency when you are obsolete.

Cries of “Sexist! Misogynist!” lose their power when you are obsolete.

It frees you up. It gives back choice to you, even though you never really lost it in the first place.

Go and enjoy the decline if that’s your thing. Bang a bunch of chicks and make a bunch of money. Go see the world.

Go and find one woman who will give you children if that’s your thing. Raise your children to be your tribe. Take from the Empire of Nothing when it needs to be done. Work within the system. Create your own civilization within a civilization.

Raise your family with whatever religion you choose if that’s what you want. Raise them the way You want to. Give them your values.

Say fuck it all and go your own way if that’s what you want. Go live out in the wilderness, or travel from city to city, country to country, seeing the sights. Do what you want.

Meet like minded Men and women in the Real World. If all of your sources of knowledge and companionship come from the online world, you could lose it all in the quickness of a  keystroke. These platforms that we use, they aren’t ours. We don’t own them. We just use them until we can’t or don’t. Meeting people in the real world, gaining knowledge from them, having experiences with them, learning from them and teaching them something as well, no one can take that from you.

Just make sure that whatever it is that you choose, that it’s your choice. Not somebody else’s.

I’ve got a choice to have children. It’s a relatively new choice for me. It’s something that I didn’t think was possible for many years and so I was okay with the idea that I wouldn’t have children. All of that has changed now, and I realize that I do want children. Not to “do my part and save Western Civilization.” Not to “raise a family to fight back against feminism.” But because I want to be a Father like my Father before me. I want a tribe of my own.

Religion got one thing right. We all need to believe in something greater than ourselves. For many, it’s the idea of God. Other’s it’s The Universe, Karma, Fate, so on and so forth.

For some it’s the State.

For some it’s Family. This is the one that I choose. Family is greater than me. My Family isn’t just my wife or partner, it isn’t just my future children. It isn’t just my parents and extended relatives. It isn’t just bound by blood. Those that I meet in real life are my family if we both agree that we fit together. I would like to add to my Family and so that is what I’m going to do.

So my question to all of you Men out there is this:

The War is Over. Feminism has won. You are Obsolete. Now what are you going to do? What are you going to do with yourselves? What do you choose? What do you want to do? There aren’t any right or wrong answers here. Whatever you choose, that’s yours.


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When Cancer Strikes Close To Home Part 2

purple crocus in bloom during daytime

So the 4 to 6 week time line didn’t go as expected. Turns out my Mother had only a few hours left in her life to live.

She died on September 17th at 5:00 pm MST.

She died about 8 hours after I posted my last post.

I’m writing this mostly on Tuesday, the day after. I’m numb and sort of in shock. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it all. Even though I knew it was coming, I still thought I had more time. It seems unreal. At least I got to see her one last time before she died and I got to tell her that I loved her and that I would be okay after she was gone. Both my Father and me will be okay.

On Tuesday the 18th, I went with my close extended family and my Father to the mortuary to discuss what’s the next step.

My Father decided to bury her instead of cremate her because he needs and wants a final resting place for her. Somewhere he can go and talk to her. I support his decision for him. I’m good with that.

I never realized what a racket the death industry is until Tuesday. Coffins ain’t cheap. A burial plot ain’t cheap. The vault that the coffin goes in ain’t cheap. The headstone ain’t cheap. I’m not entirely sure at the moment, but I believe my Dad is into it about close to $10,000. Apparently that is cheap considering other people have paid more for this “service.”

After we got done at the mortuary, we went for lunch and talked about everything and nothing. We talked about the shit my Mom has said and done over the years. We talked about people we knew well, we talked about people that were acquaintances at best.

All I wanted to do was drink myself into oblivion. I had a few and got a good, and I mean a real good buzz going on and then went home and began to type this up.

It’s the only way right now that I can cope with the thoughts in my head and the silence that is surrounding me.

The girlfriend is in Europe for 3 months. I won’t see her until December. She knows what is going on because we talk for a bit every day. She’s offered to come home early, but I told her to enjoy her trip, there’s nothing that she can do. It won’t bring my Mom back. I miss both of them so dearly. It hurts just thinking about it.

Death is absurd. So is life when you think about it.

On one hand, I miss my Mom so much, and I know that that particular pain hasn’t even really sunk in yet. The viewing will be on Friday the 21st from 6 to 8 pm. The funeral itself will be on Saturday the 22nd and it starts at 10:30 am. I think. Maybe closer to 11. I don’t remember right at this moment.

So on one hand I miss my Mom, and on the other, I feel like a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. I’m truly free of her. I can truly do what I want and be who I want without her gaze and her judgment. My life feels truly like it is my own. Maybe that makes me a terrible, selfish person, maybe not. Either way, it’s my choice now.

My girlfriend’s family has offered to come up to support me during the funeral, to be there in my girlfriend’s stead. I told them that that wouldn’t be necessary, I’ll be alright.

Maybe they’ll come up, maybe they won’t. Either way, I’m good with it. It’ll be great if they do, it’ll be fine if they don’t. I have no expectations either way.

My Father is 67 years old as I write this. He is a good man. He’s pretty good at being a man too. Some of my earliest “red pilling” came at his hands many years ago.

This will be the first chapter in his life where he is truly calling his own shots and doing whatever he wants to do. He won’t have to feel guilt for not going to the hospital to sit with my Mom. He won’t have to be a caregiver anymore. He can now do whatever he wants to do. I’m happy for him and I’m excited for him as well. He has plans. As he says, and I quote, “I’ve got shit to do.” I look forward to whatever it is that he’s going to do from here on out.

Death and life are absurd. We create all of these expectations and have ideas of what life is truly about and what we think it should be.

The truth is, life just is what it is. You keep on keeping on. It’s punctuated with highs and lows, and in the middle is where you keep on keeping on.

You get to decide what you want to do with your life. Nothing and nobody can truly hold you back except yourself. Not your Mother. Not your Father. Not even society to a large degree. Just you. Your thoughts, your hopes, your expectations. That’s all that is truly holding you back, and that’s all it’s ever been really.

That all being said, the grass isn’t necessarily greener on the other side. There are consequences for the choices that you make. You may do things that make your life more incredible than you could have ever possibly imagined. You could fuck things up so bad that there’s no coming back from it too. Remember that. You can choose to do whatever you want, but can’t always escape the consequences of your choices.

Keep on keeping on. Life is what it is. The grass isn’t necessarily greener on the other side. You can have anything you want, but you’ll also have to accept the consequences of having whatever it is that you got.

There are no do overs in life. There’s just life. Consider the consequences of the choices you are making or are about to make and then choose accordingly.

Even writing about life and death is absurd. It’s all absurd to one degree or another. In the end there are no rules.

I’ve run out of things to say for now. Now I’m choosing to stop writing and I’m going to drink myself into a stupor. Maybe not my best choice, but it’s what I choose for the moment. I accept the consequences of my choice. Judge me if you want. I don’t care. Your judgment and my own judgment really mean nothing in the long run, and they are both absurd as well.

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When Cancer Strikes Close To Home

awareness cancer design pink

It’s been at least a week or more since I’ve updated my blog. It’s been even longer since I’ve updated my e-mail list and my Twitter really.

Here’s what’s been going on recently…

First I’d like to start off at the beginning. This would have been around November or December of 2015.

I was working my job as a reader when my Father called me on a Friday night and told me that he needed to talk to me. I asked him what it was about and he said that he would rather tell it to me to my face than do it over the phone.

I knew something was up and I knew it wasn’t good if that was what he wanted to do. I also knew that my Mother was in the hospital at the time. I believe at the time it was because she had blood clots either in her legs, her lungs, or both.

I tried to get my Dad to just tell me what was going on, but he was having none of it. I would have to wait until the next day to find out what was up.

I couldn’t wait, so I called my Mom on her cell phone. She answered and I asked her what was going on.

That was when she told me that she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. At that time, it had spread to her liver, her colon, and a few other places in her body.

She went in because she thought there was blood clots going on in her lungs or legs, or both, and found out she had cancer instead.

The doctor’s were optimistic. They thought that surgery and chemotherapy would take care of this particular cancer. And in the beginning, they were right.

She had her ovaries removed and had several treatments of chemotherapy over the next few months, so early to mid 2016, and the chemo killed the cancer. All of her test results came back negative. She appeared to be cured.

About 6 to 8 months later she went back for a follow up visit, only to find out the cancer was back.

She then went through another round of chemotherapy, this time a stronger version of chemo. This particular chemo almost killed her. Luckily she was already in the hospital at the time of the treatment, or she would have never made it there. It was touch and go for about two weeks initially. Would her body recover from the chemo or succumb to it?

She recovered, went through a little physical therapy because of how much the chemo had weakened her and then was initially given a choice: go home and let the cancer do its thing and die, or do another round of this particular chemo and have it kill her outright.

There was another option though. She could go back to the original chemo that wasn’t as strong, but it wouldn’t kill her. It would never “cure” her cancer, it would just hold it in limbo. Keep it in check. She would have to get treatments on and off for the rest of her life, but in theory, she could live a full life and possibly die of old age.

She chose that latter option, and that’s what she had been doing from late 2016 until a few weeks ago.

On September 1st of this year, she went back in to the hospital, she was weak and was thinking that something was wrong with either her gall bladder, or that maybe she was having blood clots in her lungs again as it was hard for her to breathe.

The doctors ran all of the usual tests on the usual areas, looking for any of the usual signs and found nothing physically wrong with her.

The only thing that was off was her blood platelets. They weren’t going back up after her last chemo treatment from a couple months ago. In fact her platelets kept going down.

The doctor wanted to check her bone marrow and see what was going on there. In order to do that her blood platelets needed to be over 50 or higher. She was at 50. Apparently if your blood platelets are at 50 or under and you get a puncture, a cut, or a wound, you can bleed to death. You don’t have enough platelets to create clotting.

So they gave her a transfusion of blood platelets and got her numbers up to 75 and were able to do the procedure. They drilled into a spot in her hip bone and extracted some of her bone marrow and sent it off to the lab to see what was going on.

The preliminary results are back and they aren’t good.

Her stem cells in her bones are damaged. They may be damaged beyond repair. If that is the case, there is nothing the doctors can do for her.

Her options will be to either receive blood platelet transfusions a few times a week, but she will never get better, she will still stay sick. Not much of a quality of life there. Or she can come home and get her affairs in order, or she can go to a center and have hospice come and administer morphine to keep her comfortable until the end comes.

My family and I knew that someday something like this would happen. We knew that the cancer itself or something related to the cancer would be what ultimately ended her life.

I know about this latest procedure she had because again, my Father called me, again while I was doing readings on a Friday night. Just this last Friday night. So three days ago as I publish this.

My Father asked the doctor about an approximate time line from the day that the test was ran until the results come back definitively.  As I write this and post this, I haven’t heard the exact and final analysis. So I’m holding out for a miracle there. But I’m not going to delude myself.

Even knowing that cancer in one way or another is what is going to kill my Mother, and I’ve had a couple of years to prepare for that, it still took the wind out of me when my Father gave me that estimated time line.

Four to six weeks. That’s her time left. That’s what she has remaining.


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