Yesterday I made a broad generalization of the people who denounce hypocrites. I pointed out that they tend to be lazy bastards who feel threatened by anyone who manages to escape the cycle of mediocrity and make some positive mark upon the world. It is, after all, very comfortable to keep doing whatever nonsense you have been doing, even though you’re not really improving your own lot in life by so doing. The one thing that the comfortable hate most is to see another man transcend the cycle through work and contemplation.
Earl came around to provide himself as a living, breathing, typing counterexample.
I tend to believe that Earl is who he says he is. He probably is a decent fellow who grew up grounded in Catholic morality. Earl has probably not gone out to the nightclub to fuck skank-ho wimminz, He’s probably a good man and he probably does stand all aghast at the stories I tell here.
While I’m not about to excuse all the hypocrite-bashers in the Dalrock insane asylum, I’ll modify my own thesis, in light of Earl’s point.
The few non-hypocrites who aren’t scumbags are saints.
I imagine that Earl, who says he believes in original sin, will agree with Boxer, who believes in the id. Based upon this, I further imagine that we’ll both admit that people aren’t born with the innate desire to be chaste, or functional, or to delay gratification.
Well I don’t deride self-improvement or working class fathers…but divorce and then marrying another woman (regardless if she’s a single mother or not) is not something that self-improves a man.
What I’d like to know from people like Earl, is what people like Scott and Mrs. Scott are supposed to do, if they want to better themselves.
Say you’ve got a typical skank-ho slut, who goes out to the club one night, and meets the typical skank-ho male slut, and both commence to fucking.
Now say you’ve got said skank-ho sluts who decide that it’d be easier to fuck each other the next weekend, than to bother going out and meeting new sluts.
Now say you’ve got the same two skank-ho sluts who, fifty-two weekends in a row, make the similar choice, and say they have never once slipped up and fucked anyone else.
Now say you’ve got the same two skank-ho sluts who decide that, since they’ve been exclusively fucking for a year, they may as well just hold themselves out as belonging one with the other. Furthermore, they make these declarations in front of their families and communities.
Of course, one might begin objecting, all ship of Theseus like, that at some point these two people ceased to be skank-ho sluts. Now they’re a regular couple. The question then becomes whether they are or not, and if not, when they ceased to be.
In fact, one doesn’t need to wax all metaphysical. Let’s just do what our grandfathers did, and their grandfathers did, all the way back to the first civilization known to man, and call it what it is.
When a man speaks his wedding vows, everything changes. Suddenly, through that male skank-ho slut’s masculine authority, he has ceased to be a skank-ho slut. Moreover, the slut he met to fuck, a year prior, simultaneously ceases to be a skank-ho slut.
What have these people done that is blameworthy? They’ve both transcended their own earlier situation and continue in the process of becoming something greater.
I mean I don’t know if he would be in the same class as some other Dalrock posters who like to brag about how they got tons of cash and got the one woman who is the unicorn and have the most perfect daughters that any man should want (but will have to pass their father’s ‘high’ standards)…and then falls apart the minute people start questioning how that story just seems unreal……but I’d bet it’s not all that it seems.
So, both Scott and I are pretenders. We’re both skank-ho male sluts who warn younger bros about the inherent pitfalls in that lifestyle.
I frequently get on this blog to warn the young brothers about wasting time on good-lookin’ sluts. I warn my brothers about this because I wasted years of my youth on such nonsense. Had I not wasted time running hoez, I might be a millionaire businessman, with a chain of dry-cleaners, or maybe I’d be a pro golfer, with a shelf full of trophies. Who knows what I could have accomplished, if I’d have been more serious in my late teens and early twenties.
I’ve fucked hundreds of sluts, and I’m here to tell the young bros that it is a waste of time to make this the focus of your most productive years. I am a hypocrite, and I’m good with that. Older men, it’s said, ought not to dispense advice, lest they lose the ability to act poorly; but, I’ve had my fill of bad acting.
Moreover, in transcending the cycle of mediocrity which was my earlier wont, I’ve had to learn new habits. Aristotelians call this hexis. One doesn’t merely break out of the cycle of time-wasting all at once. It takes work and time, and there is backsliding along the way, all as one drags himself by the collar, kicking and screaming, into a better behavioral constellation. One doesn’t know virtue in the way he knows Shakespeare. One knows virtue in the way he knows how to ride a bicycle. Earl probably had a father to teach him. I had to teach myself. So, it seems, did Scott.