Walk the Line


The veins begin to grow on my neck, blood pumping through every tube at high speed. My skin burns and your eyes widen. Everything comes to a slow crawl, there is nothing left inside but the fire of the animal. Go for the kill, it says. DO IT!

I twitch, no one sees. So close. GO! GO GO GO! But, I rest, time speeds up to normal. And there is her long, horse-like face, sans makeup, sans any redeeming quality. A person again, nothing more than a person. And her words.

Cunt, the human says as she turns away. Whorecunt.

My boss, out of nowhere, for no other reason to wave her non-existent dick in front of the new blood, insulted me. Told me I was awful for camera and that I should be doing lighting instead. With her new, nubile, inexperienced assistant at her side, she told me to “Get out of the way. Woymn are here!”

Could I have said something? Of course. I was within my right to. I could of lit the fire under her feet and let the whole place burn with my words. It could of cost me my job, this train of money into my account and work with this company, but it would of been justice on a woman who has made everyone’s life out here beyond difficult on top of our normal duties.

But I withheld. I eyed the boss of bosses talking to the moneylenders, trying to keep the chaos in check. I eyed the other camera head talking shop with one of the producers. I had no back up. I had no exit strategy. My fire would be put out quickly, the arsonist blamed and strung up, and wounds treated and pampered (more than she’s been already). The net benefit would be a second of personal satisfaction and six weeks of punishment, at best. Home and poor again, back to square one, at worst.

Status and respect do not go hand in hand. To those not in the tyrannical cross hairs of a mentally ill feminist, her title comes with all the respect I give to the others who’ve earned it. The others have recognized my hard work, my skills and my loyalty, and given the respect I deserve. She dismisses it all, because I have a penis, a penis that gets in the way of her political and mentally deformed ambitions that we all must suffer through.

Could I have said something? Only if I wanted to be like her and sabotage the job for personal gain.

I held my place, shut my mouth and walked away. Saving my words for another day. A day when the system is not at her back. A day when the line can be crossed, happily and with purpose.

Understanding Firearms

Another shooting, another round of hysteria.

I won’t run on or give history. I will make a simple statement.

Firearms are a natural right.

Humans have armed themselves since the dawn of time. Food, water, shelter, protection. Its basic survival. Every great urban civilization has had personal arms. We are no different.

We can have laws. We can pretend we are a peaceful people. It will not change that there are people out there who want to kill. It will not change the mentally ill or the nature of criminality.

It is your obligation as a living creature to protect yourself and your family. To trust that to others when you have the right to own a personal weapon defies logic. There are billions of people who  face much more dangerous societies than ours that are restricted from protecting themselves by tyrants.

A society that believes it is above human nature is a society that has its children murdered as we saw yesterday.

The Election

Having lived in Canada half my life and the States for most of my 20s, its interesting to see how Canadians react to the American election. Which is to say ignorantly.

Most of the people I know were for Obama. Every election day they believe the Democrat will be the one to bring in everything they hope for. An end to policing the world, socialize society, a friendlier lovelier America. What they don’t understand is that the Democrats and Republicans are not that far off from each other. Bush invaded Iraq, but Obama increased drone strikes tenfold. Bush increased the deficit and debt, but Obama did the same to heights never seen before. Bush was a corporate lackey, but under whose administration was GE given state sponsored status? Promoting gay marriage and a single payer healthcare does not make a good leader. To the rest of the world, it makes you a star.

Canada is dependent on a good American economy. There is no closer trade relations in between Canada and the US. A bad American economy will eventually turn on Canada. Manufacturing, resources and tourism all depend on Americans with spending money. If America has no pocket change Canada has no industry. Yet I never heard one thing about the American economy from any of the Obama supporters. Full on prosperity, they forget it can collapse at anytime.

As a hawk libertarian, I hated both candidates right from the start. Neither was good on economy, the Constitution and foreign policy. But in a choice between evils, Romney’s big government conservatism beats out Obama’s constantly expanding socialism everytime. I expected Obama to win, but I hoped that I was wrong.

In the end, a nation guides itself by who is voted in. Americans want what Obama promises, even though his promises haven’t been kept. They want his views, even though most think America is going in the wrong direction. They want more of the same, but they also want change. Politically, America has lost it. Bipolar electorate.

I can only hope the Republicans purge their party of those who rooted for Romney. They need to recruit young men and women with small government views instead of bowing to old men who  still think Nixon was a conservative. The key to America has always been the economy and without clear and radical ideas on it, the only choice the US will ever have will be between disaster now or disaster later.

The Little Fascist

With the red pill comes a shift in viewpoint. Thoughts of harmony and equality die under a jackboot of judgement and head shaking. When you see the world as it is: genetics, biomechanics, hormones, instinct and raw culture, its hard to keep to ideology that claims the world is free and the same. Its just not. Never has. Never will.

In the early 1900s, an American political movement arose that was the basis for the short lived empires of European fascism. The Progressives, left-wing imperalists and eugenicists, took the country by storm. Famous figures like Teddy Roosevelt, abortion hero Margret Sanger, Woodrow Wilson and FDR were all believers in an organic, state-centric philosophy. Wars of conquest, racist domestic policies and the birth of corporate America were by their hands. History books rarely ever connect these great figures to the mother of Il Duce and Hitler, as is the norm with historical hero worship.

Progressivism, like fascism, was about a centralized state. Economy, politics and culture are based around the government and its dictates. The war parades conservatives bemoan the lack of was part of the Progressives. The liberal call for a New, New Deal. The UN. Massive regulation. Immigration amnesty or lack of. Almost all the shit people bitch about today, left or right, was born of these politics.

That is the laughable irony behind the mangina and feminist insults of “fascist!” as they troll our blogs and try to beat our heads with old ideas. Their very thoughts are the product of white men from 100 years ago. Few political ideals today are from anything but Progressivism.

Yet, there’s a small, small part.of their whining that is correct. Red pill dedication to a new man, to dicsipline and health, to darwinism both soft and hard, these things make us a little fascist in the broadest sense. We all have our various political beliefs. Some liberal, some conservative, some libertarian, some anarchist, but we all have the basic views of a strong masculine society. Void of feminism and void of male emasculation. In the slightest sense we are all tiny fascists. And it to me this is a good thing.

Our emotions aren’t running our ideas. We have the willpower to stand up for what we believe is right. What we know is right. What we know is natural in the human order. May you be Jewish, black, white, or whatever. God or atheist, single or married, those who have swallowed the red pill know these few basic things. And these few basic things bring us together despite what could tear us apart.

This Life

Gotta raise some hell, ‘fore they take you down
Gotta live this life
Gotta look this world in the eye
Gotta live this life until you die

No one said anything about life being easy unless they were trying to get something out of you. The merchants and indoctrinators and kings. They all want a piece of your minute wealth. They want to suck you dry until you are nothing, so they can move on to the next sucker.

The life you have is the only one. If you’re atheist or agnostic, its obvious. If you’re God fearing, like me, its still the only one. You’ve got one chance to tell God or whomever that “I did the best I could and never quit.” Most people can never have the courage. Most people are scared. Statues of cowardice pointing towards easy ways and easy lives, never experiencing, ever seeing the beauty of whats around them. I hate these cowards. I hate them all.

I started my old blog, HarmonicaFTW, under the banner of anarchy. I was angry and lonely and hurt. Over a year later, that little boy was right. Politics don’t matter. People don’t matter. You’re on your own.

And, if you take away all the illusions, you are. In the end, in our modern, information civilization, you’re alone. Totally. People are stuck within their own little worlds. Everyday, you’ll be ignored for a text message, a Facebook update, a tweet, or any number of things. Your politeness, or just even your want to connect with someone new, will be shut down because somebody’s old high school classmate decided to say hello. Not a word can be said that could break away the addicted from the social drug.

We who take the Red Pill are social pirates. The ones who sail outside the waters of normal discourse. When protests about rape, abortion or healthcare rear their head, we don’t care. We are pillaging the undefended leftovers of civilization’s great debates. Sailing between Left and Right, making our shore anything but the beaches of the “real” world. We have our own islands, full of truth, full of what is, unencumbered by the weights of the sheep and their sheppards.

Some of us, we try, we do what is needed, what is said, to make it, and we collapse and fail like roofs during tornadoes. When the winds pick up, our facades collapse and we crumble. It won’t work, comrades. You simply can’t fake what you think these women, these people want. You have to fight your way through every inch of bullshit, vaginal discharge and hamster thought. Its a war, never ending, for the soul of men. If it wasn’t for the power of our sex, we wouldn’t be attacked so and made to conform, or made to follow, or made to submit. If we were truly equal, feminism wouldn’t need to be. But we aren’t. Men make the world. Men are the world. We are power incarnate. Everything after that is an attempt to make you worry that’s a bad thing.

Tonight, I went in with a song in my heart, a smoke on my lips and the courage of a thousand lowly men cheering me on. A 9 sat beside me, her ugly ass mom talking to friends. She kept checking the exits, as if someone was to appear, or she wanted to leave. I opened after a few minutes, “Looking for the exit.” A statement, not a question. She smiles. Beautiful smile, and goes right to her phone. Not a peep, as her mother brags about flashing an AC/DC cover band.

This is our world. Upside down. We fight against gravity, hoping one in one thousand to fall into our waiting laps.

Its a fight. Its a war.

Its our life, and we can never quit, because its our life.

This life. War until we die.

Making sure our lives, to dust or to Heaven, mean something. That we can die happily, no matter what age. 26 or 96.

I’ve been across the US and Canada 4 times. I’ve fucked whores and been in love. I’ve lived in my dream state and been through Hell. I’ve lived. I could die right now, and despite my low notch count and my failures tonight, I’ll walk before the Gates and say, “I lived.”

Can you?

Robert Lindsay: Manosphere a bunch of “psycho, reactionary, backwards, racist, fascist cavemen”

Annnnnd I quote:

The Manosphere is horrible. Do we need it or not? I don’t know. I’m a Masculinist who supports Men’s Liberation. Why don’t you give me two reasons why I should support a bunch of psycho, reactionary, backwards, racist, fascist cavemen? I mean, I’m a Leftist. What’s in this Manosphere horrorshow for me? I look at it and want to take off running as fast as I can.

Why do men need strong masculine environments nowadays? There are plenty of them around anyway if you ask me. Go join a hunting, fishing, taxidermy or gun nut, or even Republican or conservative forum on the Net. Testosterone poisoning as far as you can see. Or create your own little masculine world.

Unsurprisingly, the male and female hamsters look exactly alike

Playing The Villain


People want to think the best of others. Its how a polite society works. A door opens, an elevator is kept an extra few seconds, a thank you and your welcome and good-day. Charity giving, food drives, the overall people aiding others. We all believe, or are supposed to believe, in the great giving world. That’s why laws are passed so you are forced to give money for being alive, for your labor, for your home, your water, your power, your air. That’s why our parking, our speed, our cell phones, our smokes, our words and our opinions are regulated. Oh, we are free, within the confines of the law, the confines of the opinions of others.

I sat through a conversation today that pushed every one of my buttons. I’m naturally honed in on politics, I can’t help it. I try my best to avoid large political debates because its not worth my time or my energy to argue simple points over and over. If someone wants to talk to be about details and nuances, sure, but if I say “strict gun laws” and I hear “ban all guns”. Fuck you, next subject. How can I have a stimulating conversation when your point is to have a blanket hate.

This conversation I refer to I was not a part of. I sat in the dark, listening for interruptions and writing in a small book, passing the time. The words were words people use all the time, “fairness”, “justice”, “democracy”, but they are thrust forward with a self-righteous force. I hear “unity”, I hear “Trayvon”, I hear “endangered species”, but all I do is hide a smirk and the roll of the eye. I’m tired of this talk. I’m surrounded by it everyday, with the crew and home. I can’t get in my own words. My own beliefs, without having the world come down, as if racism, death and war will explode from the ground if some of my spittle hits the carpet.

I play the villain. I am the far-right, anarcho-conservative, pro-war, pro-gun, anti-tax, anti-everything, pro-everything guy. When talking about guns, as above, guns are wrong, ban them. When talking about hockey, “hockey’s so violent” or “my son is in a non-contact league” (fucking pussy). About UFC? “People who watch that are sick. SICK!” About some soon-to-be-gangsta who got shot? “Poor Trayvon.” About jail? “Racism.” About war? “Give peace a chance.” About government? “More.” For fuck’s sake, God, allow me the wisdom… And you know the greatest irony? Its these very types of people and their opinions that have driven me to find other outlets, other opinions that I now find myself seeing as right, feeling as right and knowing as right.

I’ve been made fun of for my changing opinions (my mother being the most vocal during talk of news). As if staying stone on a subject means you’re smart. It doesn’t. It means your loyal to an ideal. It means you’re stuck and can’t move away from first impressions. In politics, its called flip-flopping. In life, it could change your lifestyle, your wealth, your dating life; everything, depending what you adopt, how you adopt it, etc. It doesn’t matter if its liberal, conservative, anarchist, fascist. Its all about what it is, what time in your life your adopting it and how much you truly believe it.

When I was young, I believed in the Word of Feminism, Socialism and Marx. When I got married, I was a conservative, switching one false freedom ideal for another. When the Ex bolted, I was slowly adopting the Red Pill, dose by bitter dose. Climbing from the ashes of a dream world put to flame by the gina tingles and the false hope of whatever feminist drivel she was reading.

Today, looking back on my previous works, I can’t, won’t and don’t want to define myself. I tell them libertarian, sometimes anarchist, depending on what the subject is, depending on their mood and the amount of yelling required for them to get their point across. When I think seriously about what I believe, what I do, what my urges want and my body wants and what my emotions want… about how I react to the world around me. I am simply a young white male dealing with what is served to him and what is taken. I’m not trying to stop change, I’m trying to deal with it, as often as these motherfuckers twist and break the rules, only to make more against my interests. I’m just trying to get by.

Apparently, that makes me the villain of progress.