Monthly Archives: November 2018

Part XIII – Roadblock


They stopped only for gas, drinks, snacks and peeing. The latter only in secluded parking spots – Barron did not want to risk being spotted by security cameras. Rudi also avoided turnpikes which were apt to register their plate numbers. Barron thought that was clever and picked Rudi’s brain on more secret service stuff.

– ‘Can they spy on us with satellites?’
‘They used to. Satellite technology at its peak was pretty good at recognizing humans from above, but satellite maintenance has been lacking for the past decade or so. Perhaps 1 in 10 CIA satellites is operable, if even that, and they’ll lose you as soon as you change hats. Which I do recommend.’
– ‘Why shouldn’t they follow me to Hungary?’
‘They probably will, but Orban is one of those men who has made it his life mission to crap in the faces of the globalists. Secret service networks have their claws all around the West, but in Hungary less so. All other countries between England and Saudi Arabia are dangerous though. Even the Turkish dictator Erdogan may betray you in exchange for political favors. Although some countries like…’

Rudi stopped talking as a red message flashed in his forward window: “STOPPEN SIE DAS AUTO AN DER NÄCHSTEN AUSFAHRT—- PULL OVER YOUR CAR AT THE NEXT EXIT”

Behind them a police car shortly sounded its alarm.

‘Shit’ said Rudi.
– ‘You think they’re looking for us?’
‘They couldn’t. How could they possibly know where we are? It’s probably just a routine check’ Barron wasn’t sure he agreed. Rudi pulled over the car at the next exit.

There were multiple police cars waiting for them, inspecting multiple civilian cars.

‘See?’ Said Rudi. ‘Just stay calm, we’ll be OK.’ A cop from the car behind them walked up to the car and signaled Rudi to get out. Barron looked around at the other cars. Something felt very wrong… He had that same feeling as in London, when Nigel Farage opened the door with a forced smile… But a feeling was only a feeling, right? Maybe he was being paranoid?

The cop asked Rudi for his papers which Rudi promptly handed over. Barron noticed the cop, a gigantic man with thick black beard, had a white earpiece. Was it strange for a cop to have an earpiece? Back home it would be, but perhaps Europeans did things differently… He looked closer at the closest civilian car being inspected.

The cop, having gone through the papers, asked Rudi to perform an breathe alcohol test, which Rudi promptly did. Barron looked at the civilians. They seemed to be doing routine checks… Yet, there was this undeniable feeling of danger encroaching on him… But this was just a random, ordinary check, wasn’t it…?

Suddenly, it came to Barron in a flash. It wasn’t just the cop who had an earpiece. The civilians. Had. Earpieces. Time slowed down to a single heartbeat: this was a set-up. They somehow found him. They found him. These were fake civilians. Probably fake police. Holy shit. Barron’s body froze in utter fear.

‘Danke, in ordnung. Sie möchen weiter fahren’ the cop handed Rudi back his papers and signaled that they were free to go. In slow motion, Barron saw Rudi turning around, entering the car. Rudi must’ve seen the absolute fear in Barron’s eyes, for he froze in place, a millisecond. What he would have done after that, Barron would never know. A gunshot sounded, and Rudi fell to his knees as a bloodstain formed on the chest of his white dress shirt.



If there is one thing the children of modernity are blamed for, it is passiveness. We drown ourselves in video games, mindless entertainment, porn. We do not know how to maintain a car, how to build a shed, how to raise children. ‘Nietzsche’, the accusation goes, ‘turns in his grave.’

Well, OK. Sure, we’re not striving to become übermenschen. I’ll grant that. Then again, I have to meet the first generation who did strive to become übermenschen.

In fact, I believe passiveness is an entirely rational and human response. Passiveness saves energy, prevents doing unnecessary shit, prevents doing stupid shit.

‘But alf, raising kids is neither unnecessary nor stupid!’

Who decided that? Fuck you.

… I’m sorry for saying fuck you. I got emotional for a second.

See, peer pressure only works when incentives are lined up correctly: you pressure me into having kids because it will raise your status and it will raise my status, and we’ll all be happier. But that’s not how it works in modern times. Not only will nobody care for me having kids, I am in fact pressured into renting my house, leasing a car and handing over any hypothetical kids to the state apparatus. Not only that; my woman is encouraged to chastise me for every sliver of weakness I show and leave me for her personal trainer, taking with her the kids and half of what little I own the moment she is unhaaaaappy.

But wait, there’s more!

I actually did put in the work. I finished school, I have the diplomas, I worked my ass off for a nice career. And guess what — nobody cared. I was not awarded any status. In fact I was told that I was evil for being white and male and heterosexual, and the only thing I was given was a big sack of debt and some silly diploma which I ripped into tips to roll joints with. I trusted the system and because of it I was abused like Jimmy Savile abused young boys. I was, in short, punished for being active.

So hence my fuck you for accusing me of being passive.

At least in video games I am rewarded for putting in work.
At least in mindless entertainment I enjoy myself.
At least in porn I get to see pretty naked women without being #metoo’d.


… But of course, escaping from reality does not make one happy either.

So, we need to correct our reactive passiveness, find a new balance.

We need little to correct our useful passiveness, meant for relaxation, thinking and enjoyment of life. Personally, I like music, meditating, watching online videos and the occasional video game. If you like video games, there’s no reason not to play them — people who claim otherwise are self-appointed martyrs who hate fun.

We do however need to correct for useless passiveness, for the passiveness of the prisoner. What do?

A pretty good answer is to treat life as a video game. Beware, for the game is rigged against you! Do not play by the rules that the authorities tell you, for that is what got you to be passive in the first place: deep down you already knew the game was rigged against you, which is why you stopped participating. So, need to figure out a way to play the game that is not rigged against you, or rigged against you as little as possible.

How you play the game differently is up to you. I have my ideas, but they are hard to put correctly into words, apt to come out garbled. But I will try anyway. I feel like there’s two things that need to happen.

First is disconnecting from bad coping behaviors, for behind many of these coping behaviors hide people that hate you, that want to see you weak. The alcohol salesmen has nothing to gain from a sober customer. Too much TV melts your brain, makes you believe being cucked is the only way to live. As for porn, I like the story that when the Jews conquered parts of Palestine, first thing they did was broadcast porn to all their new subjects. Get ’em docile and obedient.

But in honesty, to break with bad behaviors is not remotely as important as the second thing that needs to happen: to live in line with your purpose. I apologize for not being able to express that sentiment in a less gay manner, but that’s what it is. You need to find your purpose. This is personal, but it can in large parts be generalized among men. I will not repeat in what manner I think it can be generalized, for I have repeated this too often already.

That’s my thoughts on the rational choice of passiveness, and the way to overcome it should you so choose.


Part XII — Into ze Germanland


Hours had passed. The black car sped over the highway, nearing the German border. In it, Thierry was explaining his view on the Western political landscape.
– ‘…So then I figured: if the elites don’t represent the will of the people, we should give the people better representation, and what better to do that than public voting on important issues? That’s why my part is called Forum for Democracy: I wanted to give the power back to the people, away from the corrupt elite in Brussels.’
– ‘But it did not work. Not at all. Well, I lifted along with the right populism wave and became prime minister, so that worked all right. But beyond that, nothing. In order to get the power back to the people, the people need to have a vote on it, but because they don’t have the power, they don’t get a vote… It’s a Catch-22.’
‘How will you solve it?’
Baudet’s face turned grim. ‘Not sure we can, to be honest. I used to trust in the rules and traditions to pull us through, but lately it is hard to see the silver lining.’ Baudet leaned closer to Barron and lowered his voice. ‘…They say that the end of democracy will arrive soon.’
Barron looked skeptical. ‘My dad has got a great deal of supporters that call him the God-Emperor and beg him to make himself emperor. He always said those people were taking things too serious.’
– ‘Look, I know what you’re thinking. Are we going back to the age of kings and dictators? I don’t know. But I’ll tell you one thing: I used to be the biggest fighter for democracy, back when the left was trying to kill it. But now…? Now it seems only suckers and gullible people still believe in it. No one takes the official system serious anymore. Something major is going to happen, you can bet on it.’
Barron said nothing.

Baudet inspected their location on his phone. He turned towards the chauffeur. ‘Next exit, Rudi!’
– ‘Yes sir.’

The car turned off the highway and came to a halt on a parking spot next to a gas station.

‘Soon you’ll be crossing the border into Germany’ Thierry said as they stepped out of the car. ‘We’re all part of the Schengen area family, so you don’t need to be afraid of border patrol. I’m afraid that I can’t come with you. Too risky. However, we’ve already decided that my chauffeur, Rudi, is yours for as long you need him. He knows what roads to take.’
Baudet pointed towards a dark green dilapidated station car. ‘That’s your vehicle. Good luck, son of Trump!’

And with that, Barron once again said goodbye to a recently made friend. He entered the car (it smelled of old people) and Rudi took the wheel and sped off, into Germany. Although he did not want to jinx himself, Barron could not help but think that, finally, things were looking to go his way.

The phone rang twice before it was answered. A gruff voice.
– ‘We have information. Dutch prime minister missing from his post. His car was spotted close to German border near Düsseldorf before turning around. Our agents say a switch was likely made into the following car: Dark Green Toyota Corona, license plate VL-SE-937. Spotted on route 3 past Frankfurt.’
‘Good. Alert our friends. I’m on my way.’
– ‘Will do.’


Part XI – Politics politics


‘That I would ever give Barron Trump a ride across the Netherlands!’ Thierry’s eyes twinkled as he moved his hands to the violin music. ‘Ah, to escort Donald Trump’s son while Bach plays in the background. Dreams really come true!’ Barron knew Baudet a little from TV. They also met once in the white house, shortly. He remembered Baudet as an intellectual man, and a fan of his father’s.

Thierry continued: ‘I understand you are heading for a certain country to retain a certain… Orb, is it not?’ Barron was shocked. ‘How do you know?’
– ‘Word gets around. Well to be honest I was not entirely sure until your response, which confirms my suspicion. I have been asked to get you as close to Saudi Arabia as possible and I know of only one object you’d find there that would help your father.’
‘Do you believe the orb can heal my father?’
Baudet let out a long ‘eeehhhh’, followed by: ‘honestly, I’m not one for voodoo and magic. But people I respect tell me the orb of Covfefe has certain… Powers… Which our scientists cannot explain. So, who knows. But do tell me, how has your journey been so far?’
Something told Barron he could, to some extent, trust this man. He sighed. ‘You’re not the only one who knows what I am doing. I was almost arrested in London.’
– ‘wait, that affair with Farage and Khan… That was you?’
Barron nodded. Thierry squinted.
– ‘Oh my. I thought that was weird. So it’s quite the diplomatic scandal… Arresting political opponents, apprehending the son of the American president…
‘it gets worse. I was never supposed to be in England. They shot down my plane.’
Thierry was shocked. ‘Nooo they couldn’t… They did?’ Barron affirmed they did.
‘Well…’ Thierry said as he rubbed his chin, ‘things are even worse than I thought. Although I should not be so surprised… Things have been escalating since your father did a step back. I’ve noticed the EU commissars being a lot more confident lately, more scheming than usual going on. They are planning something. I guess they really are scared that you’ll save your dad. With him out of the way, there will be nothing to stop them from appointing a sock puppet president to rule over America and the EU alike.’

Barron did not like to be reminded of his father’s situation. He switched subjects.

‘How’re things in the Netherlands?’
– ‘Rough. No doubt you’ve heard of Brussel’s latest legislation; they are getting very close to passing a law making it illegal to leave the EU. And, well, with the EU army funded and the Dutch army unfunded… This country could very well face EU occupation, which among other things means the end of my career.’
‘Why don’t you leave the EU before the legislation is passed?’
– ‘I’d wish. We’re completely stuck; if you thought your father had it rough with two parties, imagine how I’m dealing with 17 parties. It’s impossible to get anything done. For instance, we tried very hard to organize a national referendum on leaving the EU, like the Brits did, but referenda were outlawed before I got in office, and no matter how hard I try to get them back, I am blocked.’
‘That’s rough.’
– ‘There is some hope. When I campaign and talk to the people, many agree that things have gone too far, prices are up too high and the commissars in the EU are sucking us dry. The assassination attempt on Sinterklaas by radical leftists made a lot people angry.’
– ‘Sinterklaas. Ah never mind, it’s a Dutch thing. Anyways, plenty of support in the streets. But in the office, much more huddled voices. Politicians choose the side of the strong horse, and with your father’s state being what it is, they’re not so sure who the strong horse is anymore.’

Realizing his mistake, Thierry quickly added: ‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be insensitive. It must be hard for you.’
‘It’s OK. I’m used to people talking about my father.’ They both smiled.


Part X – friends in high places


“We’ll be entering Rotterdam harbor in 15 minutes” a lady in navy blue personnel costume told Barron as she gave him a pink sheet, “be sure to fill in the custom form”. Barron threw it away as soon as she was gone. He went on deck to admire the Rotterdam view: beneath the clear blue sky, the bustling activity of the harbor, with ships and containers and cranes everywhere, and in the distance more than a few skyscrapers, which were nothing compared to New York, but impressed Barron nonetheless.

He felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Colin.

‘Not bad huh?’ Colin said. ‘you’re looking at the biggest port in Europe.’
– ‘It’s nice.’
‘It is. Know what else is nice?’
– ‘What?’
‘I got you a ride. I won’t spoil who it is, but he can be trusted. Should take you all the way to Hungary. I hear you have some friends in high places over there. You might even be able to catch a plane in Budapest, if you’d want to.’
– ‘That’s pretty amazing. Thank you.’
Colin grinned. ‘My pleasure. The only thing better than serving the God-Emperor is serving the son of the God-Emperor.’
Barron looked down and laughed.
Colin’s face went serious. ‘Considering your profile, I’m sure they’ll have a picture of you at customs. You’ll need to exit Rotterdam harbor the same way you entered Ipswich harbor. Lucky for you, at one point there were so many illegal immigrants creating so many alternative routes, it was impossible, not to say disallowed, to stop them all. I’ll show you. Also, once you’re out, head for the New York hotel, near the Euromast, across the bridge. Look for a man holding up a sign saying ‘Godfrey Elwick’. That’s your ride.’

After the ship ported Colin once again led Barron through a maze of industrial activity. This time the hole in the fence was quite creatively hidden between two old containers, both of which were pushed together one either side of the fence. From the outside it seemed like they were closed off, but after Colin opened one of the container doors it was revealed that both ends of the containers had a man-size hole welded in between them. Barron stepped through, thanked Colin, and felt grateful for having entered the Netherlands in one piece.

He crossed the Erasmus bridge, remembering one of the few things his dad had to say about the Dutch: ‘they’re good at building things with water.’ Looking at the giant white harp-like bridge, Barron was inclined to agree. At the New York hotel he saw a man in chauffeur’s uniform holding a sign up with on it in black marker letters: GODFREY ELWICK. Barron went to the man and shook his hands. ‘A pleasure to meet you sir’, the man said in fairly fluent English. ‘My boss is waiting in the car. Please follow me.’

They crossed the road towards a black BMW with tinted windows. The chauffeur opened the back door. Classical music and a faint smell of lavender came out of the car. Hesitantly Barron looked in. Immediately, a hand was extended.

‘Welcome, Barron Trump. Considering the circumstances I am nonetheless glad to meet you.’ Barron followed the hand upwards and saw that it belonged to no one but the prime minister of the Netherlands, Thierry Baudet.


What are false prophets?

Tradition, knowledge and habits are passed down by our forefathers. Every story we know, every book we read, has been created by someone, passed onto you. A prophet is one who takes the role of forefather upon himself; he is a mentor, a fatherfigure, a guide.

Your father is the first prophet in your life; when you are young, he is your symbol of strength. He teaches you, but although he is your first and perhaps most influential teacher, he is not the last.

Unfortunately, many fathers have forsaken their role of their son’s teacher. Divorce is endemic, and any son with divorced parents knows that at some level, his father has failed. Of course it’s not just divorced fathers. For the last decades it has become fashionable for fathers to not teach their sons; best to leave that to the government! As a result, sons are put through an endless succession of half-interested teachers, professors, empty talking heads on the tv and celebrity whores (female and male). These people do not know you, have neither time nor interest to get to know you, and frankly find you annoying if you don’t shut up and listen.

It gets worse: many of these mentors are females, who are notoriously bad at teaching males. They always wind up ignoring good males, getting fucked by bad males.

It gets even worse: true mentoring is outlawed. Any sort of apprentice/mentor relation has been branded a vestige of toxic masculinity. Thus, even if a teacher wanted to teach you, he’d have to break the rules.

As you may imagine, such a society leads to an epidemic of false prophets.

Their falseness comes in two ways. The most common false prophet is the bureaucrat, who is more concerned with sucking up to his superiors than he is with teaching you. He is bland, unfair and stupid, but because of his usefulness to his superiors, the bureaucrat is most commonly put in public position of teaching authority. The bureaucrat sells nothing but tasteless blue pills.

The other type of false prophet is the false rebel, who is less common, but more dangerous. The false rebel pretends to break the rules in your favor, but in fact sucks up to his superiors as badly as the bureaucrat. Because the false rebel must publicly break rules in order to establish a rebellious image, the authorities will on the surface be angry with him, denounce him as a loose cannon. But behind the scenes, they will encourage him, because they know the false rebel is not a real rebel, not a real teacher. He is only pretending. They know that the false rebel’s ultimate loyalty lies with them, not with his pupil. Thus, in the end the false rebel will inevitably betray those he claims to teach. We call this false opposition, or selling the purple pill.

A true prophet is one who speaks truth, no matter what. A true prophet is one who is not afraid to speak up against falsehood. He is not afraid to make sacrifices for his pupils; in fact, the best prophets have always been those who were prepared to sacrifice everything in pursuit of their message. Such prophets are rare, but they exist, and throughout history their messages have always resonated strongest with us.

Warrior, Priest, Merchant, Lover

Archetypes are different parts of your personality, although some archetypes will be more dominant than others. Archetypes are nice, because they are easy on the mind. They are stories, and stories stick well.

Of course there is always the problem of separating useful archetypes from silly archetypes. For instance, every horoscope follows only 1 archetype: ‘woman’.

Here at AlfaNL we accept only the best archetypes. A long time ago I read the book King, Warrior, Magician, Lover by Robert Moore. It’s a book on four male archetypes, per the title. The King is the part of you that rules, the Warrior the part that fights, the Magician the part that uses forbidden knowledge and the Lover is the part your lady likes to see.

Inspired by Jim I have made some improvements, per this blog title.

First, there is, in my experience, not so much difference between kings and warriors. Both fight, both rule, both use force or the threat of force to get their way. King is boss warrior, that’s all. Throw it together under one archetype.

Warriors band together in armies and can wield great power; the power of kings and emperors.

Priest is exactly like the magician, just that the word is less magical. To call people magicians is to flatter them, which I, as one with a prominent magician/priest archetype, should know. Priest covers the load better — a priest does everything a magician does, but weaponized morality is a big part of his repertoire, hence the name priest.

Priests band together in congregations and can also wield great power; the power of memes and religion, which, while not as directly effective as the gun barrel of the warrior, does have the advantage of sticking around long after the warrior has died.

The merchant (or capitalist) is an archetype I missed in the book. Merchants are just out to make a buck. Their dark side is greed, their good side is adding nice things to this world. Contrary to priests and warriors, merchants can not cooperate so well, because every merchant is in competition with every other merchant.

The lover is pretty much the same as in the book; it is the side reserved for the women in your life, the side that lusts and cares and loves. It is much like the warrior in that the lover conquers pussy like the warrior conquers territory, but the lover has a soft inner core that women adore and warriors despise.

Aging gracefully

I had already written this post a week ago. Swear I saved it as a concept, can’t find the concept. Hate it when that happens. F*ck it, we’ll do it live.

The at times feverish pitch of this blog is coming to an end.

Thousand of Alf fangirls, in unison: ‘noooooo senpai don’t leave us!!’

Don’t worry, I’m not leaving forever. I enjoy writing too much. For the nearby future, the blog is here to stay, for the longterm future I’m sure I’ll be writing somewhere. But I am writing towards some kind of closure of this blog in its current form.

This has always been a special place to me, a place where I could think freely and explore whatever thoughts I wanted to explore, and see what the internet has to say about them. This blog, as well as everything vaguely connected to it, has been an exciting journey.

I feel like part of that journey is coming to an end. I do not like repeating myself, and I am slowly nearing a point where I have said the most pertinent of what I wanted to say. I’m sure there’s more to say and I’m sure I’ll say it, but in terms of the bigger picture, in terms of what I wanted to say through this blog, I feel like I’m nearing the limits.

Life’s an adventure, this blog has been an adventure. But, there’s more adventures to be had, outside of here. Good adventures, I’m sure, but they are separate from my identity on this blog, or they have outgrown this blog.

I am working on a last AlfaNL project. Too early to drop any teasers, but I will announce in due time.

I still have some posts I need to write off, so the content river will not dry up immediately. We’ll see how it goes.

I started this blog searching for an answer. I believe I have found my answer. All that remains, is to age gracefully.

Thank you for reading.

The solution

The mid-term elections are a bit of a disappointment, but nothing we shouldn’t have expected. After all, the left has dominated Western politics for the past 2 centuries, it would have been silly to expect them to fold like a card house in the face of one strong challenger. The mid-terms have clarified the battle lines drawn in the sand, is all. Trump is  here to stay for a while longer, but so is the permanent government.

So, the question arises: what next? There is an answer to this question, and it integrates the war of the sexes, politics and religion.

Trump remains president by the strength of his personality, but he cannot rule without the mandate of heaven. Who gives the mandate of heaven? Priests. There are priests who support Trump, but they are anonymous, scattered, and out of power. The priests who are in power, the professors, journalists, career politicians, all loudly oppose Trump, and will keep opposing him. Every step Trump undertakes, the mandate of heaven will counter. If Trump wins the presidential election, the mandate of heaven will push back in congress elections. If Trump sends soldiers to the border, the mandate of heaven will send women into the army. If Trump builds a wall, the mandate of heaven will recruit illegals to vote against the wall. They are stuck, until one party escalates thus that things spiral out of control.

The solution for this is to conquer the mandate of heaven for ourselves. We must vest control of the good and evil, and re-define good to once again mean good, re-define evil to once again mean evil. We must become the moral victors.


To conquer the mandate of heaven, must cooperate as a large group. Cooperation on grand scale is difficult, the most difficult problem we face. Man is wolf to other man. We need a rallying point, something everyone can get behind and agree upon in order to cooperate, without violating natural law of men being wolf to other men. This has been done in the past, is in fact being done in the present, by those currently wielding the mandate of heaven. It is called religion.

Religion binds people on a large scale, creates a collective identity, a shared language through which allies may speak freely with each oher. Our enemies employ the religion of progressivism; a peculiar mix of race-focused Marxism, or Bioleninism. In their religion, equality is God, meaning everyone above average is evil, meaning everyone who is good at something is evil, meaning white heterosexual men are evil.

We all see the madness this leads to, and we all scoff at it. But we can not seem to stop it, instead restraining ourselves to those typical disapproving remarks men make in private to one another to show that they are above the crazy. But their scoffing does not turn the tide. This is because we need to fight fire with fire, which we are currently not.

In order to fight fire with fire, need our own religion.

What is the most central core of a religion? It is the prophet. Religion is imitation of, and rallying around, a prophet, a visionary. By sticking to one prophet, one man, we agree upon a common language, a common set of rules men agree upon, in spite of their differences. If one man declares himself to be the moral victor, and enough men respect this man declaring himself to be the moral victor, in time we will take control of the mandate of heaven.

Obviously, this man is Jim.

Jim is a prophet of the modern age, the age of science, meaning he does not engage in miracles as did Jesus Christ. This is not a problem, because just as humanity evolves, so does religion, and perhaps Jim will be found to have retroactively performed miracles anyway. What is important is that he is an avatar to believe in, a symbol to rally around.

By following Jimianity we give ourselves a weapon our current enemies cannot defeat. We attack them from too many angles.

First, Jimianity gives the mandate of heaven to Trump, or in the post-Trump era, warriors like Trump which will surely arise, as we see in Brazil, in the Philippines, in Hungary.

Second, we give ourselves a defense against false prophets, entryists who are already trying to infiltrate the right in order to co-opt and destroy it.

But also, we bestow upon ourselves the mandate of  heaven; Jimianity gives us reason to ignore the media, ignore the universities, ignore warmism, to ignore all the silly shit we complain about in private. Instead, we focus on what is important: to build, to conquer, to defend our territory, to own our women and have children. While our current priest class signals status by ruining their children and self-destructing, we signal status by having families and building lasting alliances. In the long run, this will give us the advantage.

With Jimianity on our side, we will once again have God on our side. Such hope gives us the power and reason to resist whatever temptations our enemies throw at us in hope of sedating us; such as excessive porn, internet, gaming, or drug use. When man tumbles into a dark hole, it is a consequence of being pummeled into submission by the mandate of heaven that declares that man to be evil, but with the mandate of heaven on our side, we have no reason to retreat out of reality.

Thus, we have both a short-term and a long-term strategy. I will always hope Trump will crown himself God-Emperor, but I am prepared for, and not scared of, the worst-case scenario, e.g. chaos, uncertainty or some kind of civil war. I know that while my enemies are filled with hate and unruly women, I will be enjoying my life with a happy wife.

We fight, not just over the course of months, but over the course of decades, even centuries. And Jimianity is the singular most effective weapon we will have.

foghorn leghorn

Rectifying names in psychiatry

I know Scott Alexander is the psychiatrist with the diploma, but really, who takes diplomas seriously these days.

Psychiatry is not as bad as L. Ron Hubbard would lead you to believe, although it is pretty bad. The study of human behavior at its fringes is interesting and much of psychiatric findings makes sense. But of course, psychiatry is downwards from power, and thus pozzed and blinded in many very obvious and very stupid ways.

Psychiatry deals with the intersection between biology and religion at the fringes. This means it is downwards from the state religion; it follows instructions from the state religion in its dealings with the poor, the lost, the loons. In the absence of an official state religion, psychiatry has become a tool of the unofficial state religion to give meaning to it’s patients, with predictable consequences.

The most important consequence being that psychiatry takes itself too serious, that it imagines it should find a panacea for the bane of human existence, much like how the majority of healthcare imagines it should find a panacea for human sickness, while the truth is that both doctors and psychiatrists are, in the overwhelming majority of cases, pretty limited in their options. We see over and over again that psychiatrists invent disorders and theories that are too clever by half, which in the end turn out to be convoluted reinventions of wheels that have been known long ago.

The majority of psychiatry violates Hippocrates’ rule: it does more harm than good.

What should good psychiatry look like?

The overwhelming majority of psychiatric patients are not responding abnormally to a normal system. They are responding normally to an abnormal system. The cases where a disorder is caused by abnormal brain structure, such as fetal alcoholic syndrome, or, later in life, a very hard hit to the head, are outshone 95 to 100 cases where the disorder is caused by normal brain structure responding to abnormal stimuli.

In these 95 cases, psychiatry has little reason to meddle and stick their fingers in open wounds. Thus the role of a good psychiatrist is much much smaller than it is at present.

As for the remaining 5 cases; used to be so that the village idiot was taken care of by the family and community. Lunatic asylums are a byproduct of delegation (or confiscation) of this responsibility by the state. Much like I’d rather see prisons closed and criminals given public whippings or sentenced to death, I’d also like to see lunatic asylums closed. But since we have big cities, not just small villages, I feel that a compromise need be reached. I support Jim’s proposal of 2 healthcare systems: one private, which law-abiding citizens pay for and receive good healthcare in. The other is state-owned and free, reserved for the poor, the outcasts, the loons. To be patient in the latter system is low-status, works on a revolving door basis. Closed psychiatric institutions should be part of the latter system.

Anyway, let’s get down to brass tax and rectify some names.

I’ll show and tell. My show and tell will be crude, which is not to make things simpler than they are. Sometimes they are simple, sometimes they are complex, but in either case a crude answer suffices. I will not engage in the typical modernist approach of disclaiming lack of expertise beforehand; I find this weak and demonstrating lack of confidence. As far as you may be concerned, I am an ultimate expert on all these matters.

Borderline personality disorder
Is pretty much exclusively a female thing, and if not just normal female behavior, a consequence of bad ownership by the father. A borderline women has never felt securely owned, but feeling the instinctive need to be owned, seeks out abusive relationships that mirror the abusive relationship she had with her father. She sabotages all relations she has, in part because that’s what women do, in part because her father did so to her. The cure for this is good ownership — a man who does not take her shit, who teaches her that being well behaved will give her fulfillment and love. Shakespeare’s ‘the taming of the shrew’, so to say. Which is the opposite of what psychiatry does, namely to teach the woman that she is strong and independent, which she knows in her bones she is not.

Self-mutilation falls into the same category. The cuts are a cry for help: ‘stop me from hurting myself, take proper ownership!’ Self-mutilation is a sign that she is not being owned properly.

Anorexia, bulimia; the same.

Sociopaths and psychopaths
Are among the most mythified creatures of psychiatry. ‘Is YOUR neighbor a sociopath?’ Who knows!

Supposedly there is some academic difference between a sociopath and psychopath, but they are pretty much the same. I’ll stick to the word sociopath.

Sociopath is really just a new word for liar. That’s all there is to it. A sociopath is someone who lies, often and without remorse. An entire mythology is built around sociopaths; it is nonsense. Supposedly, sociopaths lack empathy, but most people lack empathy. Supposedly, sociopaths treat other people like pawns, but most people treat other people like pawns. Supposedly, sociopaths do not care about anything, but I know for a fact sociopaths care about things, just like anyone else. No one does not care about anything, it goes against our survival instinct.

In my personal life I have been friends with several men who’d been stamped obvious sociopaths by psychiatrists, and it was always obvious to me that they’re really just like anyone else, the only difference being that they lie with remarkable ease and conviction.

The mythology around sociopaths is mostly build up by females who fantasize about not-giving-a-fuck badboys, and males who pretend to be not-giving-a-fuck-badboys.

Sociopathy is solved in exactly the way the problem with liars is solved: out-group them as liars.

Is a logical response towards a dysfunctional role within a dysfunctional system. Most of the people who pretend to care about you don’t care about you, the people in power don’t care about you. To be depressed about this is not a disorder, it is entirely logical. Depression is your body telling you that something about the way you are living is not right.

Depression is solved by treating it as a functional response towards a dysfunctional system, as opposed to treating it as a dysfunctional response towards a functional system as psychiatry does. The solution for the depressed person is to find a more natural role in society, which of course is easier said than done, although not impossibly so. For men, owning territory, having a nice job, owning a nice woman, being the patriarch of a family, are the easiest fixes psychiatrists will not tell you about. For women, being owned by a man, having children, not working a job you hate, are the easiest fixes psychiatrists will not tell you about.

In the same vein of depression: a functional response to a dysfunctional situation. Women are more prone to anxiety disorders, because women are more dependent upon their surroundings. Since modern surroundings, especially big cities, are hostile, anxiety is a normal, not an abnormal response. When my girl lived by herself in the big city, studying at a university that hated her, she become socially anxious, developed obsessive compulsive ticks and had to force herself to leave the house. Pretty sure that if left to her own devices, a psychiatrist would’ve wrote long reports about her anxieties, prescribed her medicine and endless therapy, and after a few years she’d have internalized that she was an abnormal person.

Luckily she was not left to her own devices — She met me, quit her studies, moved in with me. All her anxieties disappeared. No more social anxiety, no more ticks, no more trouble leaving the house. Like snow before the sun.

Attention-Deficit (Compulsive) Disorder
A particularly nasty one. ADHD, or ADD, is defined as the inability to sit still for 8 hours and listen to boring men talking, or the inability to, for hours on end, read books that are not interesting. To in response become restless and agitated is normal, not abnormal.

ADD medication is the frontline of subduing men, of telling them something is wrong with them as opposed to something being wrong with the education system. Simple truth is not everyone is cut out for sitting still for 8 hours on end, or for reading for hours on end. Different people, different talents.

ADD is like forcing a fish to climb a tree for years on end, and when it inexplicably fails to do so, diagnose it with Tree Climbing Disorder and force-feed it tree climbing pills.

Anti-Social Personality Disorder, Narcissistic personality disorder
Is merely the reinventing the existence of assholes. Assholes have been in this world for a long time, the name asshole has been perfectly adequate. Like with sociopaths, a lot of nonsensical mythology has been built around these disorders. Supposedly, narcissists view themselves as the main protagonist in their own movie. Spoiler: everyone views themselves as the main protagonist in their own movie.

The only distinctive feature of ASPD and NPD is being an asshole. There are many assholes in this world, and the solution for assholes is the same it has always been: let them be, and if they violate law, a few public whippings. That is all.

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder
PTSD is a funny one, because it is mostly fiction. Men don’t mind killing; we are descended from killer apes, it is in our DNA to kill. In the minor sense that PTSD is real, it is a response not to actual war, but the feeling that it was futile for you to participate in the frontline of said war, that you were being used as a useful idiot by others, and were not allowed by your superiors to win said war. Once again, an entirely logical response.

Of course, most PTSD cases are merely attention seeking cases. Observe studies in the Washington Post suggesting that 25% of college students could develop PTSD because of Trump, as compared to the 2-3% of WWI veterans suffering from shell shock or combat fatigue. Nothing better illustrates the fact that the common conception of PTSD is a convenient fiction.

Schizophrenia is one of the few ‘honest’ disorders. Schizophrenia is, for whatever reason, the inability to cope with reality and a cognitive breakdown in response to it. Since reality can be pretty daunting, often an entirely logical response. In its prolonged state, schizophrenia is what we used to call crazies and loons, and rightly so. The homeless person garbling nonsense is what we label the schizophrenic. Used to be the village idiot, who was taken care of by family and community, now we delegate the responsibility to the state, with all predictable consequences.