Censored Material: My Wife Left Me

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The following story was posted two days ago on Reddit, and it was censored within hours, but not before it was cached by the most evil wonderful corporation ever to have existed. Thanks to our revolutionary antifeminist comrades at Google, for saving this story!

The author is unknown. Is it fiction? I dunno. Personally I find it totally credible. Take it away, my brother…

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Our brother has learned the hard way about treating wimminz the way one would like to be treated himself. Of course, he loved his wife, so he assumed (naïvely) that she loved him in exactly the same fashion.

It’s O.K. to send her to Maui for a week. She’d never cheat on you, right?

As for this man’s son, we respect the concept of adoption, as all men do. If I were him, I’d have a calm talk with this young brother, lay out all the details, and then make a decision on what the future brings. I can’t imagine any scenario in which our younger brother doesn’t end up hating his mother, though I suspect he has always hated that bitch. Kids aren’t nearly as stupid as their mothers assume them to be.

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Of course, I’ve warned the married bros about assuming your wife was a man-with-tits, while simultaneously redpilling aspiring playaz about the dangers of being “the guy she really wants…”

That guy has just broken up a good brother’s family. At the same time, he has become the next sucker for this bitch to take advantage of. Be smart, and don’t let this be you.

Just say ‘no’ to the married ho’

That includes all these supposedly single bitches you find on Tinder who are “just here for the weekend from out of town,” and “looking for a fun time…”

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Note our brother’s confusion over the phenomenological “change” he describes. One minute, he knew one set of facts, and the next, he knew another, so he perceives his bitch of a wife as a “different person.” In reality, the bitch has not changed one iota.

I truly sympathize with this man, and would never make light of his situation, but it bears repeating that this state-of-affairs would not have erupted had he not made some very serious mistakes.

What do you brothers think of this story? Sound off below.

And to the human garbage over at Reddit: May you be treated in the way you have treated our brother…

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The Love of The Censor

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Vox Day, seen above with his masculinized cougar wife, in drag at some gay-friendly party, is permitted to have a series of free blogs on Google’s blogspot platform. We have already seen the contrast between feminist thinkers like Dalrock, David Duke, Cane Caldo, and Vox Day, who have the full support of the feminist state apparatus as they spread their half-truths, and blogs like Heartiste, which get deleted from the very services they enrich.

I bring this up because someone wrote to me, excitedly reporting that Heartiste is back online.

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I got excited because I enjoy having my content lifted (without attribution) for Roissy’s purposes. In return I get to make fun of the endless idiots he attracts to his comment section. It’s a good trade.

The Roissy resurrection site has been in operation for several weeks. It has years of archived articles, but it isn’t being updated, and I suspect it might be the work of a reader, rather than a continuation of the original. Either way it illustrates the difference between hosting your own content on a domain name you bought, and being a slave to the censors at Google and WordPress.

Feminist COINTELPRO agents like Dalrock, Cane Caldo, David Duke, and Vox Day are welcome to have twitter feeds and corporate-hosted blogs. Independent thinkers like Heartiste, Laura Loomer, Sam Hyde, and y’r humble narrator are permanently banned whenever they attempt the same. This is neither an accident nor a coincidence. At this point in history, having even a low-traffic blog on a WordPress or Blogspot domain is a sure sign that the author is collaborating with the feminist state.

Rock Concert With Jesus

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Down below, our brother Jason sheds light on his recent loss of faith. I don’t want to make him (or anyone) feel like I’m putting his decisions under a microscope, but reading Jason’s prose often makes me introspective about my own life.

Some eight months ago, I moved to a new part of the country. One of the first things I tried to do was to find a suitable church. In my old area (at the opposite end of the continent) I was part of a tight-knit Catholic community. I have never been a Catholic, and am sure I wouldn’t be eligible for membership, but over the course of the past few years I did pretty much everything that the other people did in that congregation, including donate regular offerings, and volunteer for service work.

I think I didn’t fully understand exactly how much I was getting out of being a part of the whole thing until today, when it’s still tangible in my memory, and when I feel the pain of losing a community of people I came to rely upon to help me make sense of the world and my place in it. Weirdly enough, I feel a bit ashamed of the realization that I was using the rites in a crass whataya doin’ for me? fashion, but I think, like Jason, I was originally hungry for some authentic connection, and I was using communion for exactly the purpose which it was originally meant.

Since moving here, I’ve found a group of Catholics who have nothing of the solemn regard for tradition that was extant in the old place. They are a bunch of fat old slobs who sing weird folk songs and never make eye contact.

I started filling in as a high school teacher when I moved here, and one of my colleagues at the red brick schoolhouse recommended what he claimed was a fantastic place, full of the spirit of God and healthy communion with decent people. What it turned out to be was a protestant megachurch, and the service was more-or-less a bad rock concert, with a minimal amount of Jesus talk around the edges.

I suppose I was desperate, because after that I actually checked out a Zen center, and found it packed with a bunch of fossilized old boomers from the beat generation. At least one of these old coots smelled heavily of a mixture of marijuana and B.O..

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I checked out a reform temple. Those guys, I thought, were monotheists, so while they aren’t my people, maybe I’ll have something in common with them. I entered to find the place crawling with loud, mannish dykes, and feminist “conscious-raising” seminars (for wimminz and their allies – lol) were advertised in the bulletin.

In every attempt, I have found zero opportunity to escape the mundane and commune with the divine. What people in all these communities (lol) are interested in is creating a gay, boring simulacrum of an actual religious ceremony, which allows them to go through some of the motions, without ever having to hear any criticism about their (possible or actual) bad conduct.

So, like Jason, I’m fairly disillusioned with the possibility of organized worship.

Like Jason, I’ve often considered myself an atheist, though it’d be more accurate to describe me as an agnostic. I’ve certainly never seen any evidence that there’s anything after this life. Like every man, I’ve done things, great and small, that can be counted as evils. It’s possible that I might be called to account for such things one day.

The greatest evil in my own tradition was always apostasy, or idolatry. This is seen as far worse than other grave sins, like fucking Black women, or drinking wine with dinner.

The Catholics were our eternal enemies, I was taught, because they worship statues, and they pray to their goddess Mary, and their god Jesus, neither of whom is our God. Mary and Jesus and all the saints were people, not God, and God counts prayers to statues of mortal men and women as grievous insults.

I used to be content with the conclusion that all the stories about God were fanciful fairy tales, and the ravings of lunatics. Now, I’m not nearly so certain. It’s possible that I might be judged and condemned for my bad deeds one day. One thing I became absolutely confident of, while I knelt below the crucifix, was that this God wasn’t the sort of petty, emotional tyrant that my teachers implied he was. The Mormon God created me with a nice Mormon brain, and with it I deduced that he wouldn’t actually mind if I honored him by venerating some old heroes in the text of the Bible. The time I spent in the enemy cathedral brought me closer to Him, rather than further away.

I don’t have anything else to say, other than to express my openness to the possibility of an authentic religious experience, because while I’m skeptical about all these supernatural stories, I’ve felt it myself.

And in closing, I’ll leave all you brothers with a song, that probably won’t mean shit to any of you. It’s a radical masculine song, written during the old days, when my people used to dream of living in a worker’s state. When I hear it, I feel the spirit and presence of my grandfathers, and I’m convinced that whatever hardships life might bring, I’ll be able to overcome.

Single Mother Extravaganza!

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Occasionally I break my own rules, and when I do, I always come away from the experience with a good story. So it was a couple of weeks ago, when I did not properly vet a skank-ho barista slut I picked up.

In the first place, I did not properly grok all the details of this bitch’s life, beyond the shape of her ass (it was magnificent) and the obvious signals she was sending that she was down to fuck immediately. Further, when we met later that evening, I let her take me back to her place. Both of these things I clearly warn against here. Given that you boys are smarter than I am, I trust that you will not need to make such stupid mistakes yourselves, but will derive the appropriate lessons from my own foolishness.

Once I arrived at her house, I found (surprise!) that the bitch had two kids. While I sat, uncomfortably, on her sofa, little Janie (5?) and Tammy (3?) were on the floor, eating finger-food, not four feet away from me, glued to some trashy television show. Their reaction (specifically, the lack of any perceivable response) suggested that they had been privy to skank-ho mommy bringing strange men around many times in the past.

Before I could find the resolve to bolt out the door, skanky princess swiveled, in one smooth motion, onto my lap, and began grinding her cunt into my lower abdomen, simultaneously moving to take her top off. My response was laughter, and it didn’t go over well. When she feigned hurt feelings, I pointed out that I wasn’t inclined to perform live sex-acts for an audience without handsome compensation. Further, if I am the only person who objects to two little kids seeing depravity up close, then there is something seriously wrong with the home situation.

Bitch pretended to get all offended, at which point I scooted the fuck out of her domain.

There is a reason we should not date, fuck, or have anything to do with single mothers, and that reason is as simple as the cancer they are on our civilization.

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Single mothers are far more corrosive to our social fabric than are neo-Nazi skinheads. They fuel more violence than ANTIFA. In fact, it would be easy to make the case that single mothers cost more money, and cause more problems, than natural disasters like hurricanes and earthquakes.

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If you think you’re going to date one of these wimminz, just don’t. And don’t just take my word for it. Watch this video, and see what our brother thinks…

Bearing My Testimony

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I often express thanks, to God or chance, that I wasn’t born a Christian. As such, I am free of implicit association with the sort of (sub-)human garbage we scoff at in places like the Dalrock comment section. For example:

Premeditated dishonesty

False rape accusations

Harassment of children

Of course, this is the cue for men like Derek to appear and “rebuild the mound” with claims that all the thousands of scroungy Christians (who daily dance for my entertainment) aren’t actually Christians.

This makes no sense and can be immediately dismissed. The existence of “true Christians” would entail some of them showing up when the Christian scum behave badly, and shutting the miscreants up. Men are what they do, and when Dalrock and Cane Caldo behave in their typical fashion, they are illustrating Christian praxis on a minute-by-minute basis. The reality is that Dalrock, Cane Caldo and Deti are the “true Christians,” and normal, decent men reflexively reject them and their filthy religion.

Down below, our brother Jason points out some of the problems with Christian moral hygeine, and he comes to some of the same conclusions I do.

Heaven will be that place where I am not. Thankfully. I could not stand an eternity with the Christian man-o-sphere, and even IF I still was a christian….I would not be going according to 99% of them because some other made up rule, or interpeted verse of what jesus *really* meant to say. the modern christian heaven is a place for maybe 50 people and their families………

The Christian heaven will be a place for low men like Cane Caldo to indulge in endless lying and girly backbiting, usually involving stories of sodomy and pedophilia. It will be a place where halfmen like Dalrock incite his dozen brain-dead followers to harass the uninvolved children of whoever differed with him the day before. It will have Counselor Deti ready to excuse all this with laughable appeals to the moral rightness of bearing false-witness.

Jason apparently isn’t very excited about the prospect of spending eternity with these sorts of reprobates. I’m not either. He also makes two implicit claims that I find interesting. The first is about the metaphysical status of the holy books, which inspire people like Cane Caldo to wax on at length, in print, about fucking trannies in the ass. The second is about the existence of God himself.

I’m not going to convince you otherwise. It’s cool. According to the people who aspouse that “they are following and loving god more than anything” should read their own bible…….men like me will burn forever (I renounced the faith), I know I won’t because it’s all made up.

I’ve never seen sense in the idea that God wrote the self-contradictory books that Christians hold up as inspired. I think it’s more likely that men wrote those books, while they were trying to make sense of the world and their place in it. The books might then be cast as not the word of God, but rather the words of people who were interested in God.

the body doesn’t need anybody. it needs self-righteous smack talk, and these folks are STILL rewarded by god. No thanks. Sadistic jerk if he really existed. Yeah, I forgot I should be “rejoicing” for my mothers painful cancer and short life, my brothers downs syndrome, my dad taken who was more holy than most Sunday pew warmer……..yes, I know “god is teaching me a lesson”

There is a non-seqvitvr argument at work in the subtext that I find both common and troubling.

Normal people are rightly repulsed by Dalrock’s pathetic doxxing of his enemy’s children, and they are disgusted by his hiding behind the notion that his god endorses his shit behavior. It is reasonable to come to one of a number of related conclusions, including:

  • Dalrock’s god doesn’t exist, except as a creation by Dalrock to cover his continuous immoral behavior.
  • Dalrock’s god does exist, but he is an evil creature, and thus not worth a decent man’s worship.

I can readily identify with both of these propositions, based upon years of online scumbaggery I’ve regularly scoffed at. As such, I don’t blame Jason for his sentiments. I’ve often noted (and will repeat) that I’d be much more comfortable praying to and worshipping the Christian devil, given the behavior of trash like Cane Caldo.

Does it follow, then, that we don’t have a creator?

I don’t think it does. In fact, I could argue that Jason’s own frustrations imply an underlying moral order that supervenes across the behavior he finds so disgusting. The fact that none of us can directly intuit the moral framework he senses doesn’t mean that the norms for which he yearns aren’t meaningful.

In a more basic sense, I could ask the same question Heidegger did, namely:

Why is there something rather than nothing? 

We all find ourselves alive for some reason, and we have to wonder why it is that we exist, as we do, in this finite but notable sense. Heidegger called this thrownness (Geworfenheit).

There are two reasons why I find a creator plausible, and that’s the first one. The second is a consequence of the first, but it’s considerably more abstract. The world in which we’re thrown has certain features, regularities and patterns that recur, both temporally and spatially. We find sets and categories of things, and we tend to be able to order our sets and categories in a meaningful way.

Rather than asking why this is so (as Aristotle did), we just accept it, and it leads us to wonder about the greatest possible element in the set of all moral beings.

There is an ordered set we call ‘the natural numbers,’ and in that set, there is a greatest number. Not only do we know this to be true, we also know that we can never pick out the greatest natural number.

If Jason tells me that ‘the greatest natural number is n,‘ my immediate response is to posit a number, to the nth power, that’s greater, and the game can go on for ever.

So, when Jason tells me that the creator of humankind is Dalrock’s god, who condones all manner of unmanly dishonesty and moral degeneracy, I can raise up quite a few better conceivable images. Even then, though, I’d contend that we’re not going to approach the majesty of the creator. We’re just making feeble attempts to define the infinite.

Before I conclude, I’ll make a couple of general statements.

  1. I know that injustice happens. The best advice I got about this was from an old lady in British Columbia (a/k/a Western China) who paraphrased the Dao. She told me that “all the things that you find important… the universe doesn’t find those things important at all…”
  2. Freedom of conscience includes the notion that a man has the right to change his mind about spiritual propositions. A man has the right to adopt a religion, and change his religion, as it suits him.

Clownworld News (23 August 2019)

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Sam Hyde is back on twitter, making fun of self-important celebrities and evading the minute-by-minute pursuit by Jack Dorsey and his sanctimonious band of censors.

In other news, netkook Laura Loomer has filed a lawsuit against our self-appointed censors at Facebook, Google, Twitter and Amazon.

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I bet you boys didn’t know about this, did you? That’s because the only anglophone press this is getting is from RT.

How free is our press if this is not being reported?

On a more personal note, a lot of you boys don’t like Laura Loomer because she’s a conspiracy nut. She’s also Jewish, which irks some of you. Ask yourself what she’s done to earn your ire? On one side is this chick who has never done anything to us, and on the other side are a bunch of trillionaire oligarchs who hate you, who steal your money daily, and who are tirelessly working to silence you in the country your own forefathers left you.

I don’t agree with Laura Loomer’s more colorful outbursts. I’m a member of a competing tribe (of self-appointed “chosen by god” people), and I’m a member of the opposing political party. None of that matters in the big-picture analysis of current events. I love Laura Loomer’s work in this regard, I support her one-hundred percent, and I am ready to help her in any way I can, as she continues to torment the humorless.

The fight for free speech is more important than republican v. democrat, or Jew v. Christian. It’s more important than abortion, or fag marriage, or gun control, or any of the other nonsense our masters would like us to occupy ourselves with. The people who are working to silence you are your deadly enemies. Grasp that basic truth, and the rest of the puzzle works itself out.