Monthly Archives: December 2017

Heartiste’s 1 pretty lie

Some are not going to enjoy hearing this, but needs to be said.

It is not that Heartiste outright lies. I have previously heralded Heartiste as the greatest shitlord of our age. Which I still stand behind. But he is not fully honest.

Heartiste lies by omission. What is the omission, you ask? The omission is that 80% of Heartiste’s male readers are born a beta, will die a beta. Heartiste does not tell them this, in fact, Heartiste tells them the opposite: most men are too stupid and low-T to get this, but you too can be an asshole with a shit-eating grin drowning in pussy! Here’s how to get nudes and bang that hot chick in the bar! Stay tuned with Heartiste, the Trumpocalypse is on its way!

Heartiste sells the fantasy of blog-canned alpha. He makes his readers feel like badboys by association, but never acknowledges that the majority of his readers are not badboys, will never be badboys.

He is making a sales pitch. And judging from the many comments he gets, a pretty effective sales pitch. But not the right one. What is the right pitch?

We may cut a knife between NRx and the Alt-Right, and say Heartiste is on the Alt-Right, I am on NRx. Which I think is fairly accurate. But we can do slightly better.

The best use of the knife is to cut between Jim & Heartiste. Heartiste says you too can be shitlord, Jim says society must be realigned so you too can pretend to be a shitlord. The difference is crucial.

In Jim’s view, ordinary men will never be arrogant, violent and murderous enough to wet women’s panties. Women’s view of male status is simply too harsh, like the view of a child living among cannibals. Women want a man who commands other men, who shoots death-rays out his eyes and who will knife someone for giving him a wrong glance. In short: women want to fuck men who routinely kick puppies out of boredom.

This is the crucial difference between Jim and Heartiste: Heartiste says men can learn to enjoy kicking puppies to get laid. Jim says men are dancing monkeys pretending to enjoy kicking puppies because they want to get laid. Jim is right, Heartiste is wrong.

Thus, Jim’s solution is better than Heartiste. Heartiste’s solution is to enjoy a poolside view of the decline with beautiful women while fanboys cheer him on. Jim’s solution is to make those fanboys high status: reintroduce patriarchy, make women soft property (first to their father, then their husbands) and ban careers for women until after marriage & children.

If that pitch sounds too abstract, imagine it like this: you are in charge of your house, your wife and your children. Your friends, your colleagues, your family and your in-laws all agree with you that you, not your girl, are in charge.

In this world, women suddenly feel attracted to all men, not just the Heartiste-types, because we have realigned societal incentives as to make all males high status.

Heartiste gives you tools to get laid in the age of thots.
Jim gives you tools to end of the age of thots.

I’d like to live in a society that is not dying, so I prefer Jim.


2017: A great year indeed

2017 has been the Year of the Trump, a.k.a. an awesome year.

Trump has singlehandedly changed Western collective consciousness. Prevailing wisdom in the Netherlands used to be that every well-thinking person voted democrats except for a very small minority of rednecks. We all agreed that liberalism was the answer, that all philosophical debates were settled. This comforted people, reassured them the end of history had arrived and that we could all relax.

With the election of Trump, suddenly history has no longer ended and people no longer find comfort in the lies of old. Naturally I love this. Fuck the priests of the old order.

But enough with the cursing! Let me pull Cernovich and draw back the curtain on some statistics.

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As you can see, the internet has been kind to AlfaNL. My visitor statistics more than doubled since 2016! This, without a doubt, has been the Trump effect: I can trace the biggest increase to exactly November 2016, when Der Trumpenführer rose to power. Thank you Donald!

Of course I can not give Donald ALL the credit. By far the biggest driver of traffic to this website has once again been Social Matter’s Nick B. Steves, whose This Week in Reaction has been an imitable Schelling point for the coolest side of the blogosphere. Thank you Nick (& others).

But as the relative amount of traffic TWiR directs towards this site decreases, I think the biggest credit goes to the fact that this blog speaks truth. I know that priding myself with writing truth is dangerous business, but allow me some status-signalling. Truth, after all, is a surprisingly rare commodity.

The internet is filled with people claiming to speak truth, but very few really get truth. Like, very little. 1%, tops. People understand chunks of truth, but always the ego rears its ugly head. Push hard enough and you’ll discover everyone has blind spots. Usually its women.

But even then I am being facetious. The above paragraph assumes bloggers write to near truth, but in reality they rarely do. Rule of thumb, the point of most non-fiction is to say: ‘I have power, therefore you should read me.’ Which is why guys like Scott Alexander and Ross Douthat have no problem lying their lungs out until they see blue in the face.

Lucky for me, the internet routs around them. Well does not rout around them entirely, because might will always make right, but the mere fact that some kid ridicules them online for all to see undermines their power, gives me power. I am right, they are wrong, and while lies need to be constantly maintained, truth seen cannot be unseen. Which makes this blog fun, makes me feel like an internet jester. So I’m sure I’ll stick around for a while.

Thoughts on the amount of writing: I’ve been writing less lately, because I feel I have said the most important stuff. But I think that writing is a bit like painting or music making, in that the process of doing is as important as the end result. How can people enjoy a blog if there is nothing new to read? So, maybe write more.

Finally, this might also be fun: can you guess what the most read article on this site is?

It is, by quite a wide margin, this article Not because anyone prominent linked it, but because a significant amount of people google ‘is Robert Mueller Jewish?’ and my blog is the 2nd hit. Good stuff.

Anyway. Hope your year was as good as mine. Here’s to hoping 2018 will be even better. Cheers.



Finished reading a biography on Silvio Berlusconi by NY Times journalist Alan Friedman.

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The first thing that strikes the eye is that Berlusconi appointed a NY times journalist to write his biography. Likely he thought Friedman would reach a broad Western audience, but throughout the book it is quite obvious that Friedman harbors typical leftist resentment towards Berlusconi and finds him arrogant, shallow and egotistic and deserving of condemnation by the international community. Yet Friedman cannot help but reveal envy in his writing, because every man would envy the Italian version of Donald Trump. This made for an interesting read.

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Is Alan Friedman Weinstein’s twin brother?

Berlusconi’s life is impressive. Started as a singer on cruise ships. Made his fortune in real estate, exploiting every grey area in the book. Went on to buy and quite actively coached AC Milan. Then made an even bigger fortune by building the first privately-owned Italian media empire. Finally topped it of by becoming prime minister 4 times, getting cozy with Bush Jr. and Putin in the process. Eventually taken down by the judicial system on the charge of corruption and bad press on the charge of bunga bunga, although financially he is still good for some 8.4 billion euros, putting him in the top 500 richest people in the world.

Privately he has 5 kids with 2 wives and not quite impossibly a couple of bastard children. He seduced his 2nd wife, an actress, in the theater while he was still married with his first. Eventually married her. Funny story: when he inevitably grew bored with his 2nd wife, she did not go down easy and published letters in anti-Berlusconi media attacking Berlusconi for ‘hurting her dignity’ (a.k.a. flirting and boning anything with a vagina). The result was a divorce after which Berlusconi had to pay her 1.5 million euros in alimentation each month. Lol.

I like Berlusconi. Guy is a charmer, a natural Italian alpha oozing with life force. How can you not like the guy? (when you’re an envious leftist like Friedman, that’s when.)

Talking about leftists, guess what Berlusconi’s explanation of his eventual downfall was? He said it was leftists, especially in the judicial system, who conspired against him. Yes, Berlusconi throughout his life repeatedly blamed a conspiracy of leftists! Friedman predictably waves this away as an example of a man who believes his own propaganda, but seems obvious that Berlusconi was on the money and that the Italian cathedral was out to get him, eventually got him.

Hilariously, while Berlusconi knew leftists hated his guts, he did not understand the nature of the leftist beast, the cathedral. The best passage in the book is when Berlusconi attends the 2011 G20 with Obama, Merkel and Sarkozy and the following happens:

“Obama looked speechless when Berlusconi stood behind him, laid a hand on Obama’s shoulder and greeted him. ‘How are you?’ Obama asked courteously. ‘Good, thank you’ said Berlusconi, who went on a rant about Italian prosecutors in front of the flabbergasted president. While Merkel and Sarkozy observed the spectacle with surprise, Berlusconi complained minutes on end to Obama about the ‘dictatorship of leftist judges’ in Italy and how he wanted to reform the judicial system. This went on for a while until Sarkzoy made a call for order and ended Berlusconi’s little tirade.”

So basically Silvo Berlusconi explained the nature of the cathedral to the PR department of the cathedral. Fucking L.O.L. I can only imagine Obama, Sarkozy and Merkel huddling together afterwards, speaking in hushed, angry voices: ‘who the fuck does this clown think he is?’ ‘he’s gotta go.’ ‘definitely.’ I would not be surprised if this stunt signed Berlusconi’s death warrant.

The other interesting thing about European politics is how serious we are supposed to take these very temporary leaders. Sarkozy, for example, is presented as an authoritarian figure who tries to reshape Europe in his own image. Obama is presented as a wise intermediary who tries to get all the parties to listen to one another. The book is written in 2015, it is now 2017. Where is Obama, where is Sarkozy? Gone, forgotten. They were much less important than we were told they were, their only legacy being further movement leftwards. Thus we can conclude that the story the media tells us about European politics is like the Bold and Beautiful for men.

Did Berlusconi deserve his political downfall? Seems to me not so much.

The 2 charges made against Berlusconi are corruption and hedonism.

Corruption, the use of money to reach an illegal agreement, is a natural way of life in Italy. It has also become a natural way of life in a world where illegality and legality is the difference between mobile bandits and stationary bandits. Thus suing people for ‘corruption’ is like suing people for peeing. Berlusconi became the victim of an unprincipled exception that for him no longer was an unprincipled exception.

The second, his rampant partying and sleeping with women and whores, I am not so offended about either. I can hardly be outraged about Berlusconi banging 17-year old Ruby the whore, except, predictably, out of jealousy.

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17-year old Ruby. Would you bang? Rhetorical question.

Did he set a good example for men? Well he is Northern-Italian, so barely inside the Hajnal line. Also it does not seem to me that Berlusconi slept with wives of important men, it seems to me he slept with whores and un-owned women. I can hardly call his Bunga Bunga partying decent, but neither would it be reason for me to enter the streets with torches and pitchforks demanding his resignation.

Let me put it this way: if an English king acted this way, it would be severely frowned upon. If an Italian king acted this way, it would be slightly frowned upon. Different people, different standards.

Not that it matters for Berlusconi, who in the end was neutered pretty effectively. But Berlusconi was just one man with few allies (he got along very well with Bush Jr, who was a useless ally, and with Putin, who was a dangerous ally). In the age of Trump, should be interesting to see more strongmen rising and cooperating with each other against the GloboHomoBezos ministry of propaganda.

The terrible truth

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A recurring theme on this blog is acceptance of the world around us. See the world as it is, not as other people tell you it is, or as you’d like the world to be. Big difference. Truth tellers need metaphors to explain the difference. Hence the allegory of the Cave, The Matrix and They Live.

Personally my favorite image for ‘waking up’ comes from an Asian horror movie I saw so long ago I forgot its name.

[EDIT: thanks to a very helpful comment I now know the movie is called Nang Nak. Trailer. Movie. Spoilers below so stop reading if you want to watch it.]

In the movie, the protagonist, a jungleman, returns to his wife and newborn child after a long absence (I believe he fought in a war). He is overjoyed to see his wife’s pregnancy went well, to see he now has a family and that they love one another. They live happily together in their bamboo house on the jungle riverbank.

However, other villagers act differently. Since his return they avoid him as if he were cursed. The man does not understand but does not mind so much. He is happy after all.

Then an older man comes to him and says: ‘my friend, something is terribly wrong. I have to tell you: your wife died in childbirth and so did your child.’ Our protagonist gets angry. His wife is at home, in good health! How dare this grey goon say something so horrible! But the old man insists. ‘Your loved ones have passed. Evil spirits have taken their place. If you want the truth, bend over and look through the opening between your legs. Then you will see.’

Our protagonist shakes his head in disbelief. ‘Crazy old man, who does he think he is.’ He goes home, finds his wife and child smiling and laughing. He kisses them on the forehead. All is well.

But something feels wrong. He never sees his wife eating, for instance. His wife never goes out into the village, for another. Other strange things keep happening. And the villagers still retreat in fear whenever they see him.

Eventually it is too much for the man, and one day he stands in his bamboo living room, bends over and looks through the hole between his legs. The first thing he sees is cobwebs and dust everywhere. The second thing he sees is the rotting carcass of his wife, lying on a chair, cradling the remains of a dead baby. Naturally, he freaks the fuck out.

I don’t remember how the movie ended and I’m sure I’ve misremembered some parts, but that scene of the rotting wife carcass always stuck with me. That is the red pill at its worst. Not some ‘I know Kung Fu’ bullshit, just some plain old ‘nothing is what you thought it was, the people you thought loved you actually hate your guts’. Truth can be horrible like that.