Each passing year, we hear both of new advancements and new controversies in the field of real dolls, sex dolls, and VR porn. These advancements will inevitably change the social landscape and most likely contribute to various social problems, but on the other hand they are also the result of the social landscape. These things are not merely produced in isolation.
How many chemical engineers would it take just to get the scent right? How many hours would the prototype spend in QA testing? How many different variants would need to be produced for consumer tastes? Even getting these things to walk upright like a normal human would take thousands upon thousands of man-hours of research and testing.
There are artists who construct accurate, yet artificial faces from models and stock images. The robot’s speech might come from an actual human voice actor, which is then sent through programming algorithms that change the pitch and tone to mimic human emotions. Human words flow into each other from word to word, sentence to sentence, and body language makes up for the majority of our unconscious speech. Any malfunction in the motors or delay with the voice will break the illusion.
Think of how the material engineers will need to make a body of false flesh with the same density as the real thing. Skin needs to feel and move like skin. False bones need to make the limbs feel real. And the whole thing needs to smell like a human and not like plastic or silicone.
[But] Last I checked, there are actual flesh and blood women still hanging around. They haven’t all been spirited away. So why the million and even billion dollar industry to supply, basically, a vagina? I mean, if you’re a man with sufficient clout, or physique, or speaking ability you should find a woman. What gives?
I’ll be taking a few days off from posting so I can work on ideas and strategies for the upcoming year. In the meantime, I was hoping to get some feedback as to how I can improve things here.
This blog has fanned out in many different directions. I’ve talked about self improvement, gave some writing advice, shown a few short stories, commentated like a NeoReactionary, and ranted about PC leftism. It’s been broad scope instead of narrow, with topics based on whatever’s on my mind. I figure it’s a good time to get some feedback as to which topics I might need to focus on, or which ones to avoid in the future.
Let me know what you like, and/or what you don’t like, what could be improved upon, what you’d like to see more of, what you’d discontinue, etc.Hell, it doesn’t just have to be about my shit here; your critiques could be about TRP or the Manosphere in general. What do you think is missing from our little corner of the internet? What are your beefs? What brings you here? etc.
“So tell me, when did it all begin?” the cute psychiatrist had said in a room on the Moon, or was saying, or would eventually say.
Josh sat watching the sunset with a half-burned joint dangling from his lips. The ships were heading in and out of the harbor, white ones, shining ones, with radar spinning silently atop. Spurts of sparks shot out from the Navy yard across the waters. A fraction of a second later, the screech of metal saw on metal girder met his ears.
Footsteps descended the concrete stairs behind him, then stopped as his friend sat down next to him, handed him a beer, and took the neglected joint from his friend’s lips.
“Welcome to paradise,” Josh’s friend said before he pulled hard from the joint and held his breath for longer than Josh could.
“Heh, yeah, I guess so,” Josh said. Now that he had nothing to hold on to, he was slowly learning how to appreciate the little things. Despite everything else around him, he was currently well fed, warm, and, thanks to his term of unemployment, getting plenty of sleep. Things in that moment weren’t wrong. What bothered Josh was that he would eventually come out of that moment and face other shit. Such was the nature of all things, hills and valleys.
“So what’d you want to talk about, Josh?” his friend said as he exhaled the smoke.
Without any pleasantries, Josh just got to the point. “I don’t think I have anything left in me, Chase.”
His friend shook his head. “A little dramatic, don’t you think? You’re only going through a rough spot, man. Things’ll pick up. They always do.”
“Except when they don’t,” Josh replied. “People have been telling me that shit all my life, and it’s getting real hard to believe. I’m starting to think that’s all bullshit, you know? Just like everything else they say. Do what you love and the money will follow. Go to college. Find a job you like. Work hard. It’s all crap.” Josh pointed across the bay, to the harbor where the white ships were beginning to dock. In the parking lot of the marina were Porches, Cadillacs, Bentleys and Bugattis. “I mean, look at that. What job pays for that and how can I get it?”
“It’s just money, man.”
“I know, but shit.” Josh sighed. “I did what they told me to do. They said it’d work. I got my degree, did all the tests and certifications. Do you know what it’s like to waste all that time and money?” Josh looked up at his friend. “I’m twenty-seven and I’m exactly where I was when I was left high school.” He reached for the joint again, what little was left.
While Josh lit the end, his friend patted him on the shoulder. “A lot of other people are in your situation though.”
Josh coughed. He’d pulled too hard. “So what? Doesn’t change what’s happening to me. It doesn’t give me my time and money back. I mean, it was like I went into a coma at eighteen and came out last year. If I had skipped school and worked at Zho-Mart I could have some money saved. I’d have experience and shit, some references that weren’t my professors.”
“I know it seems that way,” his friend muttered.
“It is that way.” Josh flicked the last of the joint out toward the water. The wind caught it and brought it sailing back, dragging it down the sidewalk. Neither bothered going after it. “Fuck it,” Josh whispered.
Josh had started by following his heart. He had wanted to help people and thought social work would do that. He had one year left to go before completing his undergraduate degree when the 2128 emergency cutbacks gutted state and local social programs. That left a lot of social workers looking for work with only a handful of seats.
Then Josh had decided to follow the trends, and healthcare was still a hot field. Josh had changed majors to nursing, spent another two years in school. The cuts spread again in his final year. Mandatory patient quotas from the state turned hospitals into assembly lines. Maximum wage ceilings made waiting tables a better use of one’s time when the pay, hours, and debt were all accounted for.
But the student advisors had told him that his credits would transfer to a new program and that he should finish up his degree in something else. They told him how much of a waste it would have been if he left school and didn’t have that degree. So, two years later and an extra forty grand, Josh had his degree in Psychology.
Which required several more years in graduate school to work in the field, plus medical school. A few more years and he could start making real money in private practice therapy, just so he could listen to people bitch about their problems while paying back the loans.
Josh had tried to become a school counselor instead, except the state budget emergencies left an indeterminate hiring freeze in place.
So, there he sat, nothing to show for his efforts but a slight high and a beer.
Things could have been worse, he supposed.
“It’s like a part of my life has been sucked away,” Josh said. “My best years, eighteen till now. No progress.”
“At least you don’t have debt,” his friend replied.
His mom’s life insurance had paid for everything, almost two-hundred thousand. Josh remembered the beer in his hand and now decided to take a sip, then another, then a few gulps.
When he finished, he said, “But imagine what I could have done with two-hundred grand. Shit, I could have taken five years off and done nothing but play video games. I’d be right where I am now. I could have started a business. Damn dude, I could have moved to Ethiopia and lived like a king, or got a trailer and lived in the South Pacific, caught my own lobsters and shit. But it all got sucked away because some bullshitters wanted my money.”
“You still have that degree though. That’s not nothing.”
“It’s nothing if I can’t use it.” Josh gulped down half the bottle then said, “Everybody’s got a degree these days. So I got one too, big fucking deal.”
“You just have to be better than them.”
Josh huffed and took another sip. “Chase,” he murmured, “why do you always have to play devil’s advocate? Why not fucking listen?”
“Sorry. Just trying to help you.”
“I know,” Josh said as he looked down at his beer. It was a cheap brand, tasted like any other cheap brand of beer, which meant it tasted like piss. Josh had wondered at one time if all beer tasted like piss to everyone else like it did for him, and he wondered if people only pretended it didn’t. Everyone thought it was piss, but wouldn’t let anyone else know that they thought it was piss. So then whole industries came about which promoted “good” beer, microbrewed, whatever they called it, all based on misconception, on status, on showing off to others. A whole Emperor’s clothing industry. Cheap shit at a premium. Eh, maybe beer didn’t work like that, but he bet a lot of other things worked like that.
Josh shrugged. “I just don’t know what to do anymore. Why should I listen to what anyone else has to say when everything they’ve said only brought me here?”
He took one final gulp. As the last of the cold, frothy pisswater went down his throat and reminded him of the microbrews and the yuppies, their advice and their industries, the lemmings who beat him to the healthcare industry and the budget cuts that sent them over a cliff, and, finally, the system that made it all function, or malfunction, Josh got an idea. Maybe it was desperation, maybe it was the weed, but to him it was a good, no, great idea.
“I know what I’m going to do with my life,” Josh said.
His friend perked up. “Oh, really?” He seemed genuinely excited.
“This’ll be great, you’ll love this. I have about fifteen thousand dollars left of my mom’s life insurance. I’m going to spend it.”
“Hold on,” Josh said, “I’m not finished. First, I’m going to get all the credit cards I can. Tons of them. I should have a decent credit limit because of the life insurance, so it’ll be a lot of money. I’ll take ‘em and start spending on whatever I want. I’ll go to Vegas. I’ve always wanted to go to Vegas. I’ll fuck some whores there, drink till I puke.” Josh chuckled. “I’m going to do all the drugs in the fucking world. I’m gonna travel too. I’m gonna eat as much as I want, whatever I want.” Josh nodded as a smile stretched across his face, a sincere smile he hadn’t shown in a long time. “Then, I’m going to get a really fancy gun, like platinum or gold plated, a big one. I’m gonna have ‘Josh was here’ engraved on it. I’ll say goodbye to all my friends, and I’ll blow my fucking brains out.”
“You can’t be serious,” Chase said.
“Dead serious.” Josh laughed. “Fucking pun.”
But his friend didn’t laugh.
“Come on, Chase, it’s an awesome idea.”
“No it’s not,” he replied.
“It’s such a big ‘fuck you’ to the whole system. I’ll get to live it up. They gotta pick up the debt. No bad consequences for me, ‘cause I’ll be dead.”
“Maybe not for you, but they go after your family.”
“What family?” Josh exclaimed. “Mom’s dead. Dad is who knows where. No girlfriend, no kids. I’m a free man, dude, unchained. They’ve got nothing on me. I’d be a fucking financial assassin, jujitsu the system back on them.”
“Yeah, that’s a horrible idea.”
“Says who? Oh, yeah, says every person who said for me to get in line and do what they did. You know what? I think I’ll pass on their advice from now on. Maybe this is the one good idea out there.” Josh glanced over at his friend. “You’ve never heard of this idea before, have you?”
“No, ‘cause it’s stupid. I’m sorry but it is.”
“No, you haven’t heard it before because good ideas don’t need to be advertised. And this is a good idea.”
Excerpt from I Am The Sun, available on Amazon. If you like Phillip K. Dick, or psychedelic stories about psychics and first encounters gone wrong, with just a touch of Nietzcheian philosophy, then this might just be for you.
Less for the lyrics, and more for the music video.
Transitioning from blue pill to red pill can be quite the experience.
Someone flips a coin. It comes up heads. They pass the coin to another, who flips it too, and it turns up heads. They pass it again, the next person gets heads. And the next person gets heads. As does the next, and the next, and the next, and the next. This process continues, from person to person, with the coin always meeting the side heads-up. Now the coin gets to you. Will the result be heads or tails?
The coin is not weighted. There are no tricks or statistical anomalies. The reality is that for every person who flipped the coin and had it turn up heads, they got to live to pass the coin to another. For every person who met tails, they died without the opportunity to pass that coin.
Thus, it should be no surprise that every person living today is the result of a continuous, unbroken and seemingly impossible row of heads. You, with the figurative coin in your hand, are the result of every person before you having lived to breed, which is not an easy feat considering what our ancestors went through.
The record of human history is littered with wars and famines that wiped out whole generational lines. The fact that you survive means that your blood is from the lucky few who made it. They were the ones who held on when the fever of disease gripped them. They were the ones who were victorious in war, or they were the spoils of war. They were the ones who found land when other boats became lost at sea. They were the ones who survived cataclysms and salvaged the wreckage to build anew.
Life is an amazing when you consider that every twenty years or so the struggle would begin again with a new child born into this world. Another coin flip. Heads or tails?
As amazing as that story is, it is equally a travesty that, for many people, their grand epic is going to end in an age where there are no famines, no wars, no great conflict which culled so many in the past. Sitting on the back porch with a typical crowd of SWPL’s, they were each happy to tell each other, when the subject of children came up, that they wouldn’t dare have any. They gave the typical responses of: there are already too many people, more would just hurt the environment, and why can’t humanity just go quiet into that peaceful extinction?
Now I am no stranger to nihilism or materialism, but that has to be the most defeatist sentiment I’ve heard in real life. These people believe that the world ends with them (WARNING: NB). They believe there are no greater aspects to life than the individual and that individual’s personal happiness, and since neither the individual nor their happiness carries on carry on after death, nothing does. They would rather live for now, get the promotion, ride the carousel, make more money, up until they die alone and their remaining assets are seized by the government. The modern world’s material decadence has broken their sequence of coin flips, ending it forever.
Imagine telling that to the centurion who barely missed an arrow to his heart, or the mother who deliberately starved herself so that her toddler could eat. Our struggles are a fraction compared to theirs, and yet we still choose a worse fate. What then did our ancestors fight and survive for?
We are not merely individuals, living out own, disconnected lives, but rather a link in a chain that connects our forerunners to our progeny. Our bodies aren’t a single entity but rather a colony of cells, cells which were built on the blueprints of the cells of our parents, and their parents. There are literally thousands of ancient, unknown people who, in their own small way, now ensure that your body stays together.
The manifest destiny of life is to keep on living. And while there is no universal law that dictates we must keep our line going, for anyone who is aware of their place in the chain it becomes our personal obligation to do so. You should feel the need to reproduce because you should feel your line is worth reproducing.
Many would take issue at me for even suggesting that a person settle down and start a family. The SWPL’s have their religious tenets dictating that they end their ancestor’s epic story with a whimper. That I can’t help them with.
The manosphere’s PUAs would rather sit poolside. MGTOW’s would rather go with their namesake. I can’t really blame them for either strategy, because they both have good reasons to do so. No one wants to invest their time and effort in something that could be rendered fruitless on someone else’s whim, whether that someone is your spouse handing you divorce papers or a politician approving a new economic policy.
But nature doesn’t care what environment you find yourself in, and that is as true for yourself now as it was for your ancestors. You are still holding a coin in your hand and your line will die if it lands on tails. So what are we to do?
Consider modern decadence as any other environmental pressure faced by our ancestors, like draught or famine. Understand that this is a time when the weak are separated from the strong, and that the strong must find a way, for you aren’t doing such for yourself, but also for the uncountable people that might follow.
There was a reason I’ve been talking about science fiction. Also a reason why I’ve posted a short story. For the last year I’ve been working on a novel. It’s done. I’m not big on advertising on here or doing book promotions, but here ya go.
I Am The Sun is now available for kindle. If you like Philip K. Dick, then you might like this. If you like what I do and want to throw a little cash my way, this is the way to do it. I don’t have a tip jar; I don’t beg for money. Instead, I prefer giving something for something. But if you’re a regular reader of mine and fiction isn’t your thing then don’t worry, regular programming will resume shortly.
You’re welcome to read the summary on the kindle page. If you’d like a review copy, just email me.
A drug that opens the mind… to what?
Earth’s technological progress in the 22nd century has ended in stagnation, except for one aspect, hidden in the underground. A street drug stolen from DARPA can give one the ability to move matter, travel through space, and see through multiple dimensions, but at the cost of cracking open and releasing the pure mind. Most become Gods absent of thought, prone to self-annihilation, but a very few are able to stand the breakdown and are reborn.
The governments of the world cannot allow them to break free, nor can they let the failures destroy civilization as they psychically implode. An underground war wages to stomp them out.
And yet it may all be for nothing. The sparks of transdimensional thought are being noticed deeper in the metaverse. An apex approaches that will split the timeline of mankind, one toward destruction, the other toward ascension.
So yeah, I wrote a book, like, a year ago. If you’re a regular reader of mine, you might be thinking, what book? The book that’s at the top of the menu, under “Novels and Novellas”. The reason you haven’t heard of it is because I don’t go around promoting it heavily, and that’s because I view this here, this blog, as a hobby rather than a way to make money.
Perhaps I’ll heavily promote my next book. Maybe I’ll have some manospherians review it. But that’s for next time.
Making my book free is my way of giving something back to those who have left comments that I never replied too (oops), and to the readers, regular or not, who read my site when they could spend their time elsewhere. Thank you. So, go get it. It’s on amazon.
I hate posting only once a week, but work is keeping me busy. There are a some blog posts in the editing stage that will be out next week, once I find time to polish them over the weekend. In the meantime, here’s some filler.
Busy week. Still editing next week’s posts. Here’s some dark renaissance.