Our Clone Army

The Manosphere is probably growing. It certainly has more and more sheeple belly aching than ever. I am seeing content after content that simply points to the obvious ills of our Western world. Seriously, how stupid do you have to be for that to be a revelation after the first ten times?

The Manosphere is now collecting an army of clones.

You can’t simply move sheeple (or shit) around and expect some configuration to be civilization. Shit is fertilizer, but let’s move on to what are the most possible outcomes of this development in the ‘Sphere.

With sheeple and sheeple culture taking over the red pill awareness movement, the people who are part of it will operate on primitive fear or not participate, which is to say they will do nothing until a critical mass sufficient for a mob mentality is reached and that mass is set off by some Rosa Parks event, the so-called black swan. This mass turn in behavior could indeed create a turning point for humanity and history, but there is a big problem.

You can take the sheeple out of the herd, but you can’t take the herd out of the sheeple.

One or a few leaders will emerge if this outburst gets ‘legs’, as they say in politics. Most observers of this attempt at ‘hope and change’ will think The Leader, Der Führer, Il Duce, The Chairman is such a great good man. Actually, he will be at the right place and time for that position because sheeple luv, luv, luv absolute authority with the absolute guar-an-fuckin-tee. The position will exist as a power vacuum by popular demand, and the best demagogue will be cast in the role of messiah.

There is a very good chance that sooner or later, but probably not very late, an ‘influence’ of magical benefits from the alchemy of fiat credit will turn the people’s red pill revolution into just another Hegelian dialectic: meet the new boss, same as the old boss.

No, no. What red pill is is a true understanding of the laws of nature, of evolution. For there to be civilized freedom, the civilized few must conquer the uncivilized many over some jurisdiction of land. Stability would require that sheeple go the way of the dinosaurs, but the gene pool has a long way to evolve before the randomness of human reproduction will not mostly design sheeple. Right now the sheeple pawns have conquered and are continuing to conquer the men of high culture value. To make an omelet, eggs must be cracked. A steak requires a bloody deed. People need to eat every day. Conquest requires maintenance not static ‘perfection’.

A clone army of pussy red pill whiners addicted to the ego circle jerk will never usher in civilized freedom.

A big organization of MGTOW is not the answer. Culture is born, maintained, and advanced in a jungle of ideas, not in a bureaucracy of ‘stability’. You approaching sheeple by yourself and facing your insides as you face them, that’s your answer for whatever potential you have inside yourself! The potential we have together is not your choice: it is the choice of the collective. Pick your collectives carefully. I pick men in the bonds—yes, bonds with responsibilities that come will the elevation—in the bonds of civilized patriarchy. Life is a chore one way or another. Life is a competition that requires cooperation one way or another. I will take what sheeple cooperation I can get by seduction. I sure as hell won’t stand shoulder to shoulder with them for the emotional jollies of the herd wherever it goes.

I want to eat steak, sitting at a table, indoors, at a comfortable temperature despite the weather outside, paired with a red wine and a well-behaved female with ample breasts but not an ample waist. As for Rome burning, toss me a fiddle and I’ll play a cacophony. Until then, I’ve got better things to do than study violin so I can sing, “I told you so_” from the rooftops. I might be too old or too dead to move when that day comes.

I don’t eat much steak. I will suffer, but I will not suffer from giving up on my humanity, better than most. If my brothers are not philosophical thinkers, I have no brothers. My chances of eating steak in style are inversely related to the emotional investment I make in sheeple. Thank you, red pill. I choose the chains that likely will lift me up, or I don’t work. That is freedom over fear. I have fuck-you emotion.

—‘Reality’ Doug, 16 April 2015

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About ‘Reality’ Doug

I'm feed up with herd people, so civil and uncivilized, these feckless barbarians with manicures. Where is Galt's Gulch? and where are the people to go there? Who am I? Who is John Galt?
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