Category Archives: Reflection

The dancing monkey’s monkey dance

 

The world’s a stage, and all the men merely players.

According to Darwin we are all monkeys. Darwin was right. Tyler Durden from Fight Club then said we are all monkeys waiting to be shot into space. Tyler was right. Tyler Durden from Real Social Dynamics then said that being a dancing monkey is being try-hard. He was selling a purple pill lie.

The truth is that we are all dancing monkeys. People are piqued when I tell them this, as if the notion that you are putting on a show implies that you are not being real, not being yourself. Nonsense.

When I leave my house, I am a dancing monkey, because I know that cooperation/cooperation outcomes require good dancing. I meet people, I dance, they dance, we dance. That is simply the way humans communicate. We don’t know others like we know ourselves, hell, we rarely know ourselves, so we do the next best thing, which is to act out a dancing version of ourselves which communicates to others as effectively as possible who we are. It is show – of course it is show! – because that is what communication requires. Whether or not you consciously experience the need to dance, the end result is the same: you go out in the world, perform your monkey dance, and you reap the results of said dance. You may assign as much meaning to that as you want to, but in the end that is all there is to it. You are just 1 monkey, in a world of 7 billion monkeys. You dance, or someone else will dance on your grave. It is self-deluded pride to think otherwise.

At this point it is important to repeat that being a dancing monkey is a red pill, not a black pill. Our challenge is to turn it into a white pill: make it so we enjoy performing our monkey dance. Dancing is meant to be fun, after all. I enjoy my dancing, am as relaxed in my dancing as I can be (I rarely completely relax, because Gnon punishes unguarded relaxation), and as a result I enjoy my life.

By the way, what’s the last time you literally danced? Should be at least somewhere in the last 7 days. You’re not just your brain.

But let us look at women. For ages men have looked and women and discussed among themselves the age-old question: why do women love soaps?

I watched 5 episodes of a soap. It confused me. I just didn’t get it. What is the point of 30 minutes of fighting about Maria, who carries her sister Theresa’s baby, a baby Theresa made with Chad, Chad who turned out just cheated with Helga, Helga who is not only the mother of Theresa and Maria but also heir to the Sippensdale Imperium, the Sippensdale Imperium which Chad’s brothers hate to the bone! Oh an Maria is also a transgender. During the 5th episode I specifically remember thinking: what the fuck am I watching.

Of course, now I get it. Women can’t distinguish between the monkey dance and the monkey reality. For a women, the monkey dance is the reality. Soaps are a bunch of very pretty monkeys in pretty clothes performing dances on steroids. Of course they love it.

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pretty monkeys in pretty clothes

Now let us look at men.

The trick is to get men to enjoy their monkey dance.

Self-development used to be religious. Both are about your identity and place in this world. Now, people are very different, but people are also pretty similar. Men need property, need a woman, need monetary purpose, need männerbund, need children. None of these are absolutely necessary, but exclusion of any goes against our genetic programming. A happy father is a happy dancing monkey: it is good to feel in control of your life.

Modern life lacks feedback mechanisms that reward our natural dancing instincts. Teachers say you suck. Universities say you’re wrong. Companies say you don’t matter. Media says you’re evil. Etcetera etcetera. We are told our land is not really ours, and the same thing goes for our family, work and friends.

Dancing in such an environment sucks — our monkey instincts are too strongly abused. Unsurprisingly everyone is increasingly sick, which goes double for those who are officially designated to heal the sick: all psychologists are depressed, all psychiatrists are in denial.

I am struggling with how to end this. Some kind of uplifting message? Not sure. Getting to co-op/co-op outcome with men is hard. Requires time, trust, and something for all parties to gain. Am I dancing with my readers or just doing some autistic solo performance? Eh. We’ll see.

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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.

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