The #SoftLife movement is taking over the world by storm. Whenever people think about someone living a soft life, they picture a white woman, or even a black woman for that matter.
The specific stereotype is usually that of an ultra feminine white woman who inherited all her wealth from daddy, or an educated black woman who earned her wealth at some point after escaping an abusive upbringing full of hard knocks, and now she can travel the world on her own time and dine in style on her own dime.
Those stereotypes are harmful in and of themselves because not only do they reduce the individual down to solely their race, but they also discount everybody else having a similar experience. As harmful as those stereotypes are, none of them are quite as harmful as the racist belief that black men are just not meant to live a soft life.
The reason why that view is racist is because it limits the black man solely to a life of servitude to everybody else besides himself, and that judgement is based on no other reason besides his race and gender, and with zero consideration as to what he has to say about it.
The world is of the insanely rigid view that their comfort and convenience should be achieved on the backs of black men. They dread the day that they will be forced to share their privilege with us, and will defend that status quo with their lives.
They also have an idea of how a black man ought to behave based on negative stereotypes in the media that harms us rather than help us to progress.
Negative stereotypes such as the tatted up black thug in the projects, the pornographic stereotype of the BBC, or a more archaic stereotype of the fat, greasy, blue-collar worker who is always caught sleeping on the job and eating watermelons all day, and they expect us to keep perpetuating that stereotype for their own benefit.
So when they discover otherwise upon meeting you, they try to discourage your grace and elegance, first by acting like you are lame or awkward for being that way, before ultimately seeking to destroy you for it.
At the same time, they expect you to pedestalize and entertain them at work all day. That is why it infuriates them internally when all you want is to be left alone to perform an honest day’s work, get paid and go home.
That is not something I would ever consent to in my right mind, simply because I am nobody’s dancing monkey. And not only that, but it also rudely interrupts the plans I have for my own life, which is to live as soft a life as is possible on this prison planet until I croak.
Life is too short, and we are here for a good time, not a long time. So if living a soft life as a black man in America somehow makes me selfish, so be it. After all that I have been through in my own lifetime alone, the least you can do is stay out the fucking way and allow me the space and mental bandwith to eke out my own path. No one said you had to like me.
The first step towards living a soft life as a black man is to remain cognizant of the fact that these racist motherfuckers are not your friends, they expect you to amuse them. If you let people get inside your head, it could cost you your life.
Secondly, stop working for these racist corporations who want to silently murder you with poverty and overwork. With poverty and overwork comes stress, with stress comes illness, and with illness comes the greater likelihood of ending up in an early grave.
Thirdly, everybody on the planet was born with a unique gift, whether or not they choose to answer the call. Do some soul searching to discover your own unique gift, and then monetize it. The last thing they want is for the black man in America to buy his own house and start his own business. Well I say give ‘em hell, it literally keeps them up at night. Take your revenge.
Fourthly, when you are no longer under socio-economic stress all the time, threats against you may become more legal, perhaps even criminal. Tread carefully on the surface of this planet, remain ever vigilant and keep a low profile at all times, which brings me to my fifth point.
Stay away from troubled people, and most important of all, make sure that they stay away from you, too. If you are a strong, intelligent and elegant black man like I am, you do not fit with the proletariat of society, or who we call normies here on this blog site.
They are a classless bunch of weirdos with bad manners and bad hygiene, compared to you who is the male equivalent of a triple threat. Be careful of the bars, clubs and restaurants that you frequent. Be careful of the kind of women you choose to date.
The normies will gain access to you at these venues, and through some of these women if they can no longer gain access to you at work. Same as how threats against you will become more legal when they can no longer get you fired. But then again your tastes should evolve as you become more of a hedonistic connoisseur.
There is a reason why celebrities walk with an entourage, or why a presidential caravan doesn’t reveal which one of the cars the president is riding in. I’m not saying that you should do the same, but when you start frequenting more high class establishments, the normies won’t be able to reach you then, because they simply cannot afford it.
Speaking of women, many male celebrities end up becoming shrouded in scandal because they cannot control where they stick their dicks. From Cosby to Kelly to Bryant, the scandals keep coming, and have been proven rather harmful to their reputation.
Whether or not the accused is actually guilty of the allegations doesn’t change the fact that their names would have never been called if they did not go there to begin with.
There is only a certain caliber of woman whom you can safely sleep with going forward. Pretty little normies are only there for the money and attention. Where the hell were they on your absolute worst days when you were getting it out the mud, and didn’t much feel like being alive?
Finally, do some more soul searching, but more so as it relates to your tastes and preferences this time. The first step in doing so is to remember when you were daydreaming as a kid about your adult life in the future.
What were the details of some of those fantasies and how can you tweak it to make it work in the world as you now understand it? Your fantasies were not complete back then. There were many missing details because your imagination wasn’t fully developed.
You must now decide for yourself if there is anything you would add to, or subtract from your fantasy now compared to before, and then make your dreams a reality. Your inner child is starving for his dreams to be validated, and it’s time you stop ignoring him for the sake of other people’s egos and expectations, for you too are worthy.
Soft life is not exclusive to any single group. It is the reward for making all the right decisions within a market as capitalistic as the American economy.
It is no secret that hedonism often gets a bad rap. It is often confused with narcissism, and people who openly practice varying forms of hedonism are frequently the subject of envy and ridicule.
Perhaps hedonism receives a bad reputation because people do not fully understand it. They think they know what it is, but if that was the case, it would be clear that what they are actually alluding to is decadence. But what is the difference?
Hedonism is defined as living so as to extract the most amount of pleasure with the least amount of pain. That is not to say that they are lazy, for a hedonist will choose to make sacrifices under the right conditions, and for the right reasons. The only rule for a hedonist in order for him to willfully make a sacrifice is that it has to be worth it to him.
All hedonists have a vested interest in sustainability, some more materialistic than others. A hedonist may choose to indulge in worldly pleasures, but it is not coming from a worldly place. A true hedonist can be satisfied with less, so long as he is safe and comfortable, a decadent infidel cannot.
Decadence is defined as senseless and needless overindulgence in materialism, often at the expense of others. An infidel cannot comfortably co-exist with a hedonist, knowing that they are equally sustained. It won’t be long before the infidel tries to sabotage the hedonist, hoping it will somehow prove him to be more superior.
An infidel needs the dichotomy of winners and losers in order for his world to make sense. He thrives on sadistic chaos, while the hedonist thrives on hedonistic chaos.
By that, I mean to say that a hedonist will find order in the chaos of self-sovereignty, which is hedonistic chaos. While the decadent infidel will seek to sabotage the hedonist’s transcendence into self-sovereignty, causing sadistic chaos.
Though decadence is mostly sadistic, there is also a masochistic element to it. As there are some decadent infidels who will binge on food and wine to the point of nausea. Then they will vomit to make room so they can binge some more, as was the case during the final days of the Roman empire. But the practice of gluttony is not unique to them. Wherever there is decadence, you are sure to find gluttony.
That form of indulgence is not the hedonistic way, as there is no vomiting in our world. Sure, we may love to indulge, but not to the point of self-inflicted abuse and degradation. Overindulgence is not true pleasure, only a smoke screen to mask misery. Our mantra is pleasure and happiness all the way, but everything in moderation.
I even have a personal rule that I do not go out to indulge unless I take care of house first. That means, the bills have to be paid, the fridge has to be filled, the trash has to be emptied, the floor mopped and the bed made.
In that way, whenever I do go out, there is nothing on my mind that could steal my joy. I am also reassured that when I return home, I can step into an orderly house. If you find everything intact as you left it, you can be certain there were no intruders while you were away, an added benefit.
Sometimes when you clean, you find something under a table that you didn’t even remember owning. How can you be certain of the things you own if you won’t even clean? Those who practice decadence would never clean their own house. It is either that they choose to live in filth, or they clean their house begrudgingly if they have no one else to do it for them.
Decadence is a disease, and one of the mind. It is usually what happens whenever a civilization is on the brink of collapse, as more people tend to overindulge as a means to cope with life’s complexities. There is evidence of upheaval even in the name itself, as decadence comes from decay.
Decadence was commonly practiced towards the end of the Roman empire, and history is now repeating itself throughout the west. Hedonists indulge, while infidels overindulge, the difference lies in one’s mindset.
Vince was at the end of the road. As he laid alone in a hospital bed, he looked back on his life. He thought about all that it had encompassed. The highs and lows, all his achievements and failures, his strengths and weaknesses. The things he could have done differently. He thought about all his children, and how much he loved them.
Then he thought about his regrets. He thought about his dead wife, and the stormy night she was brutally raped and murdered by a lone madman. The thought that he wasn’t there to save her made him very angry. Yet a bittersweet smile crept across his aged face at the thought that he will finally be able to see her again. He closed his eyes, and then transcends into the vast unknown.
…
He awakens to find himself in a house somewhere. It is not his house, and he has no idea where he is. But somehow, everything feels so familiar. He climbs out of bed, puts on his robe as if it were a daily routine, and goes downstairs, where he sees a man he instantly recognizes.
“Finally awake, I see!” The man says, wearing a ‘kiss the cook’ apron. “You must be hungry, let’s get some grub in you,” he continues with a love thy neighbor smile on his face. Vince looks perplexed.
“I made bacon and hashbrowns, I hope you like it,” The man continues, pouring Vince a glass of orange juice from a glass pitcher. “They’re freshly squeezed! Handpicked them this morning from the garden. I hope you find it to your liking.” The man places a plate of bacon and hashbrowns with the glass of orange juice in front of Vince, who is now seated at the dining table.
Vince looks down at his plate, then up at the man who is smiling from ear to ear the entire time. “What’s the matter? You haven’t said a word.” “I know… I know you,” Vince says, shaking with emotions, “I know who you are.” The man continues to smile.
“What’s the matter, don’t you recognize me?” Vince asks. “I understand that you are probably confused, and that you must have a lot of questions on your…” “… why are you being so nice to me?” Vince confrontationally gets up from around the dining table. “Is this some kind of trick, or something? Don’t you remember what you did?”
Just then, a woman enters the room. “It smells mighty good in here. What are you…” Tears well up in her eyes the moment she lays eyes on Vince. “Vince!” “Claudette!” They both tearfully embrace each other rather intensely, then they both pull from each other. “Claudette, it’s you! It’s really you!” He takes her in thoroughly. They tearfully kiss and embrace yet again. The man stands there smiling the entire time.
They break from their embrace, and Vince looks at the man. “Claudette, what are you doing here with this man after all he has done?” “I don’t understand! All he has done was to help me make breakfast.” “No, that’s not all he has done. Don’t you remember?” “Vince, honey! I know you must have a lot on your…” “…why does everyone keep thinking I’m confused, or something? Did this man hurt you?”
“No, he didn’t!” “Is he holding us both here against our will?” “Vince, baby! All he has done was that he offered to come over to help me prepare for your arrival.” “My arrival?” “Yes Vince, your arrival.” “Do you know where you are man?” The man asks. “I remember waking up in this house that feels strangely familiar to me. But I’ve never been here before.”
Claudette and the man stand silently by.
“I don’t really remember much before that. But if you are both here, and I know that you are both dead, then I must also be dead. That’s got to be it. I must be dead, and this is some kind of an afterlife. An afterlife, or perhaps it is some kind of purgatory if that man is here with us after everything he has done. Claudette, we are good people, right? I mean, we worked hard all our lives, only to end up getting the crappy end of the stick. What did we do to end up in hell with this monster?”
“Does this really feel like any of us are in hell?” Claudette asks. She pulls back the drapes to reveal a man mowing their lawn. “Haiyya neighbors!” The man smiles and waves at them as she waves back. “Are you kidding me? Don’t you know who that is?” Vince asks. “That’s your brother, Steve,” Claudette replies.
“That no good brother of mine told a lie to get me in trouble back when we were kids. I ended up missing the school dance because I was grounded for a week. And as if that wasn’t enough, he stole my sports memorabilia when we were in our twenties. It was a collector’s item. I was never truly able to get over the hurt of his betrayal. If I wasn’t sure before, now I know. We are definitely in hell.”
“Vince, you’ve got it all wrong,” Claudette tries pleading with him, “Both men have been nothing but helpful in preparing for your arrival. Steve offered to help mow the lawn, and Eddy offered to help make breakfast.” “Really? Eddy? Are you going by first names now, or something?” “Vince, please!” “Do you need me to spell it out for you?”
“Eddy broke into our house one dark, stormy night. Eddy raped you at gunpoint. Eddy murdered you in cold blood as you begged for your life. Eddy had no remorse as he was pulling the trigger. All your begging and pleading probably only helped him get his rocks off like the sadistic son of a bitch he really is. Can’t you see that this is all just an act to get us to drop our guard. This food could be poisoned for all we know.”
Vince angrily smashes his uneaten breakfast plate into the wall before running out into the yard, still wearing his robe. Claudette and Eddy run out after him. They find him sitting on a tree stump in the backyard. Claudia put her arms around him from behind, stroking the side of his face.
“Don’t worry about the plate Vince, I’ll fix you another. It’s impossible to waste food in heaven, so vast is the abundance.” He gazes confusingly into her eyes.
“Look, what happened to me took place on earth a long time ago. Yes, I was hurt and confused when Eddy first arrived into heaven. It brought back a lot of bad memories about the night he killed me. But after a while, I learned to forgive. I had to learn to get those pesky little cobwebs out of my head if I wanted to be happy.”
“I just don’t understand any of this. How could he have gotten into heaven? How could you think to forgive this monster after the way he ruined our lives?”
“I don’t really know why I chose to forgive him, come to think of it. I probably just figured that only good people come to heaven. And that if he was able to make it here, then somehow he must have done something good to make up for all the bad that he has done during his life on earth.”
“But how could this low life have made it into heav…” “…I heard raised voices,” Steve says, running over to them, “Is everything ok?” “Steve, what are you doing here? I haven’t seen you in over 60 years. Don’t you remember what you did to me?”
“I understand that you are probably upset with me, brother, and I honestly can’t say that I blame you. But what happened on earth took place a long time ago.” “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell him, Steve…” “…you stay out of this, asshole. No one’s talking to you.”
“Vince, please!” Claudette interrupts before she continues, “Eddy apologized to me over 40 years ago when he first arrived, and he would like to extend you the same courtesy, so does your brother. Look, I didn’t ask them to come over. They volunteered, knowing how difficult it would be. Your parents wanted to come too, but they couldn’t make it. They wanted to apologize for kicking you out the house when you turned 18. They were hoping they could see you tomorrow, so you all could talk about it.”
“I haven’t thought about that in such a long time,” tears welling up. “I had nowhere to go, so I ended up on the street during the worst winter of my discontent. Then my girlfriend wrote me a letter saying that she was pregnant. I didn’t want to be a deadbeat, so I had to figure it out. The fastest decision I could make at the time was to enlist in the service. Even though I really didn’t want to join, I did it anyway. I did it for my kid.”
Vince continues, “I came back home with a bunch of shell shock and recurring nightmares about my buddies getting maimed and killed in battle. Nightmares about the time I got captured by the Viet-cong. I was held and tortured as a POW for six months until I was found and rescued by allied forces. Once home, I became a violent drunk. I was of no use to myself, let alone my kid, and I didn’t want him to see me in such a despicable state. Sure enough, my first marriage didn’t last much longer.”
“I remember you telling me about it when we first got married. You were in a great deal of pain. I’m really sorry that you took that pain with you into death,” Claudette says.
Silence fills the air.
“Vince, I’m really sorry for what I put you and Claudette through,” Eddy says, “I had no right to ruin your lives like I did.” “Vince, I’m sorry for all the things I put you through, bro. You have been nothing but good to me and my wife, and I see now that my ego wasn’t worth losing a brother like you over,” Steve says.
“How come you are only sorry now? Why weren’t you sorry back on earth?” “I really don’t know what to tell you there Vince,” Steve answers. “Oh, you don’t know? Well you know what? You, Eddy and my folks can all take your fake apologies and go fuck yourselves with it.” “Vince, we’re only trying to help you for your own good. Try to understand.” Claudette pleads with him.
“To answer your initial question, Vince. The reason why I think we didn’t have an incentive to apologize back on earth is because we were living in the flesh, and the flesh is full of pride and ego.”
“Eddy is right! Once we shed our flesh, we also shed our ego, which makes it easier for things like apologies and forgiveness.” “I think the boys are on to something, Vince. But in your case, your ego must be especially strong. Because you have shed your flesh, but your ego is still intact.”
“I have never seen anything like it. Someone whose ego remains intact after dying,” Eddy says, “And I have been here 40 years already.” “Vince, you’ve always been pretty darn stubborn, ever since we were kids. But I never counted on you being able to keep your ego intact after dying. I just don’t know how you do it bro.”
“How soon after dying before most people shed their ego?” Vince asks. “Usually right at the point of death, or in the days leading up to death. Either way, they shed their ego before they are able to reach heaven,” Steve says. “Your case must be a rare exception. Truly unprecedented!” Eddy says.
“Perhaps it just takes longer for Vince to shed his ego, than it does for other folks to shed theirs. Obviously he made it into heaven somehow,” Steve says. “I’ll have you fine gentlemen know that my man is a good one, thank you kindly. He’s just a bit stubborn at times, that’s all,” Claudette says.
“Give it some time Vince, everything will be alright. I know you’ll grow to like it here in time, and you and I can make up for lost times.”
“I would love that very much.”
He ponders on that thought for a moment.
“Ok Claudette, I’ll do it. I’ll try and shed my ego for your sake.” “It’s a deal!” Eddy says as he reaches to shake Vince’s hand, who reciprocates rather reluctantly. “Well alrighty then, I guess it’s settled,” Claudette says as she embraces him. “Now let’s all get back inside the house and eat breakfast.”
As time goes by, Vince and Claudette rekindle their lives together. Vince and Eddy become really good friends and neighbors, as they work together on many community projects. From painting, to drain cleaning to barbecues to butter churning. He even manages to make amends with his parents for any unresolved feelings of betrayal and neglect that he may have been holding onto all his life.
As Vince learns to forgive, his ego starts fading away slowly but surely. He takes on a more youthful appearance, and his personality becomes more playful. Vince, Claudette and Eddy grow really close over time, and are often seen playfully running through the water sprinklers as if they were kids again. All is right with the world. Then one day, it happens.
“I can’t take another day of this.” Vince smashes his uneaten breakfast plate into the wall again. “I’ve barely spent a month living in this lousy dump, and I’m damn near out of my mind already.” “Vince honey, what’s wrong? You were doing so well.” “Yeah buddy! Tell us what’s wrong,” Eddy says. “Your dumb ass is what’s wrong, and I’m not your buddy,” he yells, pointing his finger at Eddy.
“There’s something awfully screwy about this whole operation. I tell ya, this isn’t right.” “But look how much younger you’ve gotten, and your ego is almost completely gone. Why would you want to go back to living in a way that has made you so unhappy for most of your life?” Claudette asks.
“I don’t know! Maybe it’s because it’s the only thing I’ve known all my life. Maybe it’s because this whole thing feels so unnatural to me. I don’t know! Whatever it is, I don’t like people messing with my free will.”
“But if that free will came from your ego, doesn’t that make it a bad thing?” Claudette asks. “Bad as it may be, it can’t be worse than messing with your free will,” Vince replies. “Does your free will matter more to you than your happiness?” Eddy asks. “Stay out of this asshole, I’m talking to my wife.” Vince yells, pointing his finger at Eddy.
“I don’t know how everybody else in this godforsaken shithole does it, but it is not my free will to forgive my wife’s attacker. Let alone be friends with the guy. Perhaps I was mistaken, but I see now clear as day that heaven is not paradise for me. If this place is going to manipulate me into betraying my free will, then heaven for me is actually hell.”
“Do you think you would be much happier going to the other place then?” Eddy asks. “I don’t know! Probably so!” Vince stares at Eddy rather curiously.
“You know, you still haven’t answered my question.”
“What question?”
“How did you make it into this so-called heaven after everything you have done back on earth? You’re not a true believer, or anything like that are you?”
“Do you really want the truth, man?”
“Yes, I do!”
“Do you remember my execution?”
“How could I forget, I was there. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Do you remember my final words before they pulled the lever that fried my brain?”
“You said that you accepted Jesus Christ as your lord and savior. That’s all you said.”
“That’s all I had to say. After that, it was a done deal, my salvation was secure. The moment they pulled that lever, I knew I would wake up in eternal paradise.”
“Did you really mean what you said, or were you just taking advantage of someone who died on the cross two thousand years ago?”
“Obviously I made it into heaven somehow, so you tell me.”
“I’m asking you.”
“It doesn’t really matter.”
“It matters to me.”
“What does it matter if I shed my ego at the point of death? As long as we’re all here, and I’ve made amends, that’s all that matters.”
“To you, maybe!”
Vince turns to Claudette.
“Can you believe this fucking guy? He somehow managed to make it into heaven without truly repenting. All he had to do was recite some kind of sinner’s prayer, or something. Which he waited until he was certain he would die before doing. Yet there are good people back on earth who lived their whole lives wondering if they are worthy of entering heaven. How insulting?”
“He never told me how he made it into heaven. I just assumed that he was a good person who made some mistakes, and genuinely repented,” Claudette says. “You always try to see the good in people, and it ended up being your undoing.”
He then turns to Eddy.
“It wasn’t enough that you raped her once? You had to track her down the moment you arrived in heaven to take advantage of her a second time. It’s just never enough for you, is it? What’s your problem with my wife, man? What did she ever do to you?” Vince shoves Eddy up against a wall.
“Stop it, both of you. I can’t take this anymore with the two of you always at each other’s throats. Why can’t we all just get along?” “How do you expect us to get along if there are two mortal enemies in the same room? Do you honestly still believe that this place is heaven?” “I don’t know what to think anymore.”
“Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to move on after you died? You know how much pain I went through to deny my nature just to atone for my mistakes, in hopes of having a shot of making it into heaven just so I could see you again? And all this motherfucker had to do was recite some phony sinner’s prayer. What a waste of effort on my part?”
“But your nature is still intact, so what have you really accomplished?” Eddy asks. “I don’t know! The only thing I do know is that I really don’t want to be here anymore.” “You can’t be serious!” Claudette exclaimes. “No, I’m serious. I’m done!” “Why don’t you give it some more time? Think things through?” “Because there’s really nothing to think about.”
“Would you rather risk losing eternal abundance in favor of going to the shadow realm? That, from what we heard, is far worse than the temporary readjustment period that you are going through here.” Claudette asks. “As long as there is no agenda to manipulate my free will, then it’s worth a shot. What have I got to lose?” “Everything, if you don’t come to your senses,” Claudette says.
“Vince, listen to your wife for once. Here, we have everything. We literally don’t have to work, or do anything but hang out all day.” “I really don’t need to be taking no advice from a rapist and murderer. Plus, I’m not lazy like you. I don’t mind working for it, and figuring things out on my own. So long as my free will remains intact.”
“Vince, please! Listen to reason. You don’t know what you are saying, it’s horrible down there. The fire never dies, and there is no water to quench thirst.” “Look, my mind is made up, ok. Now who can I talk to about this?”
“I am the way, the truth, and the life. None can come to The Father, except through The Son.” “Jesus fucking Christ, who the hell is this dude supposed to be? “They call him, The Son.” Claudette replies. “And how did you get in here?”
“I literally manifested out of thin air just now,” The Son replies. “Whoa, that was fast. I didn’t think he’d get here so soon,” Eddy says. “Thank God you’re here. Maybe you can talk some sense into my husband. He’s been talking like a crazy person.” “And yet I’ve never felt better.”
“Ok, let me try to understand this. So you would rather spend eternity in the shadow realm because you feel like there’s some kind of conspiracy to manipulate your free will here in heaven. Right?”
“The whole thing just seems so unnatural. Ever since I got here, I have felt an unusual urge to forgive the people I despise. And it took every ounce of strength in me, just to keep a clear mind. But now, I’ve had it.”
“Is that all you have to say?”
“No, that’s not all. I also think it’s rather hypocritical of you, that there are good people in hell right now whose only crime is that they don’t believe in you. Yet a wretched despicable murderer like Eddy can make it into heaven, simply by reciting the sinner’s prayer. And you just accept it as proof that he believes in you. Has it ever occurred to you that he recited the sinner’s prayer, just as a ‘get out of hell’ free card?”
“The people in hell who you think are so good, deserve to go to hell because they are atheists.”
“Atheism is not a measure of morality, or the lack thereof. Unless you truly don’t give a damn about morality.”
“I do, but believing in me is important, too.”
“How could you be so petty? I don’t respect you, sir.”
“Why would you punish someone for choosing to use their free will to believe whatever they want? It’s their choice whether or not they want to believe in you, but they shouldn’t be punished for it. They should only be punished if they did something wrong that warrants them being punished. The first amendment of the American constitution places a much greater emphasis on freedom than you do.”
“Look, I understand that you are upset, but rules are rules, and you just have to follow them.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Look, if that’s all you have to say, then all I have left is that I just want to be free. Cost it what it will.”
“But it’s horrible down there.”
“So I keep hearing. But perhaps freedom is the sinner’s paradise. The right to choose for themselves. The right to be who they want to be.”
“You should know that once you get there, you can never come back. You will be stuck down there for eternity. Is that really what you want?” “Whatever man, I’ll take my chances.”
“I guess there’s no point in keeping you here if doing so would make you unhappy, but Claudette stays here with us.”
“Why are you so controlling? Why don’t you let the lady speak for herself?”
“Alright then, I will!”
Vince turns to Claudette, but before he could utter a word, she says, “I want to stay here in this abundant, familiar space surrounded by the people I love.”
“Even if it means being neighbors with the man who raped you?”
“Yes, but you can go if you feel it will make you truly happy. I love you, and I will miss you dearly, but if your freedom and happiness is more important to you, then I want you to be happy.”
Vince and Claudette intensely stare into each other’s eyes before tearfully embracing one last time. “Go be happy bro, you deserve it.” Eddy pats Vince on the shoulder. Vince holds Claudette by the cheeks, and wipes away her tears. “Thank you for being so understanding. I will love you till the end of time.” She cries harder upon hearing that.
They embrace, and hold each other’s hands.
“I will never forget this.”
“I love you,” she tearfully whispers softly as he pulls away from her and walks away. She runs after Vince as both he and The Son disappear together. Devastated and heartbroken, she cries really hard on Eddy’s shoulder as he consoles her.
…
At the entrance to a nightclub, the muffled sound of really fast Techno music can be heard playing from outside the venue. A horned bouncer with glowing red eyes can be seen unhooking the extension cord to let patrons inside the event. Vince, who was waiting in line, is about to be next.
When he gets to the front, the bouncer says to him in a low, coarse voice, “welcome to Club Hades. May all your dreams come true.” “Thank you!” Vince replies, “It’s an honor to be here.” The bouncer places a vip wristband around Vince’s wrist, and smiles at him as he lets him into the club.
Inside the venue, the music is much louder, and the dance floor is moderately packed. Some patrons can be seen dancing the night away, rubbing up against each other. Some are drinking at the bar, while others are passed out from having too much to drink. As Vince is walking around the venue, he notices a voluptuous seductress with demon horns and glowing red eyes seductively smirking at him.
Vince decides to order a drink. He goes over to the bar, and orders a bloody mary. The bartender checks Vince’s wristband with his flashlight, then says to him. “Oh, the man of the hour. I see that you are the owner’s special guest. He’s waiting for you over in the vip section.” As Vince goes upstairs to vip, he notices an old acquaintance waiting for him at the top.
“Well if it isn’t my man, Vince.” “Rick old friend, so good to see you again.” The two do their special handshake. Vince and Rick walk over to the lounge, where they sit in one of the booths.
“Are you comfortable?”
“Sure am!”
“When I heard that you were here, I had to come see for myself. You are the last person I would expect to find here.”
“After living a life of hell on earth, I figured the real thing couldn’t be any much worse than that. So I had to come see for myself.”
A moment of silence fills the air.
“Believe it or not, I was actually in the other place first.”
“Really!”
“Yeah! Then I found it wasn’t quite to my liking, so I asked to come here instead.”
“That’s incredible, I didn’t know you could switch sides so easily. After dying, I mean.”
“Well apparently I did.”
“Well it’s no wonder the owner wants to see you. He should be here any minute now.”
“You remember Eddy?”
“Who? You mean the maniac who killed Claudette?”
“The one and the same.”
“Yeah! What about him?”
“They wanted to erase my will, and force me to forgive him. Worse than that, they actually expected us to act like we are pals.”
“Wait, you actually saw him while you were up there?”
“Sure did!”
“How did he make it into heaven?”
“Well supposedly he repented right before he was executed.”
“And they just let him right on in there? Just like that?”
“Yup!”
“What kind of screwball place is that anyway?”
“I know, that’s what I said.”
They both laughed.
“Everybody else was under some kind of weird spell, except me. The worst part about all of that was that Claudette would rather stay up there and be friends with her rapist than to come down here with me.”
“Imagine that!”
“I know! They may have gotten to her somehow, but they didn’t get me.”
“That’s probably why they kicked you out of heaven.”
“Probably! Or it could just be that they made an exception in my case. Whatever it is, I sure am glad that’s over.”
Just then, a tall, shadowy figure with glowing red eyes approached the booth. “Vince, I’ve heard a lot of promising things about you,” he says in a low, thunderous voice. As he steps out into the light, it is revealed that he is wearing a dark suit, and has the horns of a ram goat.
He possesses a powerful aura. More powerful than anyone else in the room. Just as the two men were about to stand to shake his hand, the man insisted, “No, no, no, please don’t stand on my account.”
“My name is Natas, I’m the owner of Club Hades,” he gestures for a handshake. “Did you say your name is Nathan?” Vince asks as he reciprocates the handshake across the table while seated. “No, I said Natas, The Goat. Because I am the Greatest Of All Time.”
“That’s a peculiar name.”
“I get that a lot.”
“But a nice name, though.”
“Flattery gets you nowhere with me,” he jokes while smiling at Vince.
“You must be tired from your trip.” A waitress appears by the mere snap of Natas’ finger. “Three bloody marys if you would be so kind.” “Right away, sir!” She disappears, and reappears with the order instantaneously. She smiles at Vince before disappearing again.
“Vince, you look tired from your trip.” Vince has been wearing the same clothes he left heaven with. But by the snap of Natas’ mighty finger, he was now clean shaven with a cool new haircut, and wearing a suit. They all raise their glasses, “a toast to my new friend Vince, and his arrival at our club.” “May friendships last forever,” Vince smiles. “CHEERS!”
“Vince was just telling me that he would much rather be here if it meant having his freedom,” Rick says. “Yeah, so I heard. This place gets a pretty bad rap. So I think it’s actually really commendable that anyone would be willing to brave the trip, regardless of what they might have heard. I guess that’s why he gets the vip treatment,” Natas says. “Oh yes, well deserved,” Rick replies.
“So Vince, how does it feel to be a chartered member of Club Hades?” Natas asks. “For a place that is said to be the pit of eternal punishment, everybody here seems to be having a really great time so far,” Vince says while taking a sip of his bloody mary. “The only pit here is a barbecue pit,” Rick jokes. “Let the good times roll.” “I know that’s right.” They all drink and laugh together.
“You know, I think this booth could use a bit of a woman’s touch,” Natas says as he claps his hands twice. Almost immediately thereafter, two really hot seductresses levitated over to their table. “Slimthicc, just the way I like ‘em,” Vince says.
“Pick one!” Natas says. “It’s kinda hard to choose, they’re both really hot,” Vince replies. “Well in that case, have ‘em both,” Natas smiles. “Hey, what gives?” Rick protests, but then he cannot help but to laugh.
They both sit next to Vince, one on each arm. They introduce themselves as Mindy and Jada. Then they start rubbing down his chest while smiling seductively at him. “You are the talk of the town,” Mindy says. “Yeah! Everyone heard about the way you stood up for what you believe in,” Jada says.
“We think that men who take risks and make sacrifices for what they want are like really hot,” Mindy says. Vince and Mindy lustfully gaze into each other’s eyes before making out profusely while Jada aggressively grabs his junk.
A third girl has joined as Rick’s date, and the party of six are all laughing and drinking together. “Look at that! Everyone’s laughing and having a good time,” Rick says, drinking and smiling. “Boss man takes care of his people,” Jada says, smirking at Natas.
“Well, I try!” Natas replies while staring at Vince. “Look, I like ya, kid. It takes balls to do what you did,” He continues, staring at Vince with admiration in his eyes. “Can I ask you something?” “Sure!” “Do you think I’m a bad guy?”
“From what I’ve seen so far, you seem really chill and laid back.” “Thank you, that’s what I’ve been saying.” “Well what do you mean?” “Look, can I tell you something?” Natas asks anxiously.
“They paint the image of me like I’m this bad fucking guy, Right? Well if that was true, I’d have all of you shoveling coal into my furnace round the clock, without taking any breaks. But instead, here we are drinking and laughing and having a great fucking time.”
“Well obviously you’re cool and all, but why did they portray you in such a negative light?” “Ahh, ancient history kid. But basically what it is, is that the old man made a bunch of mistakes with the human design, and wanted me to take the rap for it. Just so that he can come out of it looking good.” “Wow, really?” “Yeah! He gave you qualities such as greed, envy and vanity. And he wanted you to convince yourself that the goat made you do it.”
“Wow dude, that’s really fucked up.” “I know!” He shrugs, “So now I gotta act like I’m supposed to be this terrible fucking guy, or something. When all I really wanted to do all along was just to kick it and chill. “You know, in all the years that I’ve known you, it’s the first I’m hearing about this,” Rick says. “What did you do about it?” Vince asks.
“After a while, I got tired of play acting. So the old man turned me into a snake as punishment for telling the woman about the tree of knowledge.” “Really?” “Yeah! I figured that anyone who can see through the great deception, and is brave enough to prioritize their own human freedom is more than deserving an eternal reward.”
“How many people throughout all of history were brave enough to risk it all for their freedom?” Vince asks. “Everyone who you met in this club tonight, including the girls who are hanging all over you guys right now.” The girls glance over at Natas and smirk as he acknowledges them.
“So are Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, Tesla, Ben Franklin and Thomas Jefferson, just to name a few,” Rick says. “In time you will have a chance to meet everybody who made it,” Natas says. “I guess it’s true what they say after all. Freedom is the sinner’s paradise,” Vince says. “Welcome to the party that never ends,” Mindy says, smirking seductively at Vince.
President Biden has announced that he will not be seeking re-election in November’s presidential race. The 81 year old president made his announcement last weekend on July 21.
Though his reasons for forfeiting the race may never be publicly disclosed, it can be speculated that they are due to his advanced age and possible failing health.
The president’s health has long been a topic of debate, as he has shown signs of cognitive decline. His many bloopers are evident throughout his media appearances over the last few years, and makes good material for late night comedy.
It is very possible that those bloopers could be more related to chronic speech impairment, than it is to cognitive decline. But the way you are perceived in the public eye is sometimes more important than your true character, and running for president is one such time.
Biden has caused America to appear more vulnerable on the world stage, and his departure is welcomed as a most positive turn of events. If he were to get re-elected, he would be 82 years at the beginning of his second term.
Four years later at the end of that term, he would be 86, but I don’t think he would have made it that far. At the rate in which he was going, congress would be forced to invoke the 25th amendment at some point during his term to replace him with vice-president Harris.
If he is going to fall out of the race, he could not have chosen a better time. I believe that he will serve out the remainder of his current term, which ends on January 20. Quit while you’re still ahead. Do it for the sake of your dignity.
Now for the question of who will become the next democratic candidate. Few have speculated that Hillary Clinton would be the most popular choice. But it is obvious to me that vice-president Kamala Harris is the likeliest choice, seeing as how she is already so close to the presidency.
It is even more evident when you consider that her campaign reportedly received $81 million in donations within the first 24 hours, before she’s even had a chance to officially enter the race.
This is no surprise to me, as I have always speculated that Biden was just warming the seat for the de facto president, while she gained popularity from riding his ticket.
This is not good. It is a relief to finally see the back of Biden, but Harris is not much of a better choice for the American people. Never leave a woman to do a man’s job.
Harris was going to become the president one way or another, and Biden dropping out of the race is the best way it could have played out. This is disastrous for the future of our country. In many ways, Harris is worse than Biden.
Not only will Harris make history as the first female president of the United States, but she will also become the first feminist president. It is also expected that she will support other far left agendas, such as; LGBT, dreamers, etc. Basically picking up right where Obama left off, back to business as usual.
Patriarchal chauvinists won’t have a leg to stand on in Harris’ America. Feminists will feel emboldened to attack and disparage us with impunity. Free speech will become illegal, but only when we have something to say.
As I was saying in last week’s article, the far left has no regard for the glorious constitution of our noble republic, only for their own agendas. Only the right are truly patriotic. We believe in the capitalist free market and the great American press. And we will do whatever it takes to protect our homes, families and beliefs.
Fortunately for us, our enemy’s camp has erupted into disrepute. If we want to make America great again, now is our chance. With Biden out of the race, and Harris in the lead, there is but one hope for the future of this country. Take advantage of the confusion while we still can.
And make America great again while you are at it. Or perhaps not! But whatever you do, never dare re-elect the old geezer, along with that damn woman to the highest office in the land. They are not your friends.
I thought they were for the longest. I also thought that all people with conservative values were inherently racist. That was the lie that was consistently fed to us by my derelict Jamaican ex-relatives from Brooklyn.
They were nothing more than a bunch of deadbeats pushing their feminist agendas, and a bunch of derelict male simps who turned against me to support the females in the family for fear of being ostracized themselves. Have I mentioned once before that the rat race begins at home?
I had openly supported Senator John McCain over Obama in 2008, right up until the end of summer. I was stuck living with my enemies, and was having difficulty finding my first decent job in America.
Then one fateful evening, I heard Hillary Clinton on the radio. While speaking in support of Obama, she said of McCain; “What does he know about poverty? He was born with a gold spoon in his mouth.” At that moment, they had me sold.
If I had any form of sustainable income at the time, I would have continued supporting McCain, whether or not I was wealthy. But I thought that voting democrat would provide more jobs and social services for people in need, especially immigrants.
And I wasn’t wrong, but for who exactly? Not for actual people in need. Only for entitled deadbeats who envy their own kind, yet want to make up excuses and blame the racist white man every day of the fucking week.
It is a pity they don’t realize, same as I didn’t at first, that it is not up to any president on either side to save us, but for us to save ourselves. At the end of the day, both democrats and republicans are two wings on the same damn bird.
Regardless of who is in office at any given time, I awake each morning knowing that I am King of the Buckinchere dynasty, a fact that will remain until my last breath.
I only care about making sure that I do my part to provide the life I want for myself. To put the power in any man’s hand to provide for you is to make him your god.
Because the moment you owe him, he owns you. That is a form of idolatry. Even if you don’t believe in God, no mere mortal is deserving that level of idolatry. Save it for your damn self.
My deadbeat ex-relatives were indoctrinating us young people at the time to idolize our pastors and politicians. Because us practicing self-sufficiency was too scary of a thought for the insecure ego maniacs to stomach.
They tried to change me into someone I am not by blacklisting me from gaining sustainable employment until I supported their party of choice. I only gained employment once they felt I was ready for the rat race on their terms, 2 years after I first arrived in the country.
Of course, being ready for the rat race on their terms meant envying everyone else in society. It also meant feeling like they are somehow above me, and that I will never be good enough.
This tactic was necessary in ensuring that I would do everything within my power to prove them wrong, only for them to act like they don’t care once I actually proved them wrong. Only seek to make sure that you are comfortable in life. If you seek the validation of others, you will never win.
The more I navigated the rat race, the more I realized that my ex-relatives only mirrored the wider society. The rat race is full of immigrants, feminists, and homosexuals, who delight in emasculating men with strong chauvinistic values. They might have changed my mind, but they never changed my heart. And through it all, I never lost my chauvinist ideals, they only became stronger.
I realize that melting pots are not meant for me long term, unless I want to risk ending up in jail. Most melting pots are situated in blue states. It is rare you would find one of them in the deep south.
If you have any patriarchal chauvinist values, however small they may be, move to a red state. The deadbeat feminists, and the male simps in your families, at your jobs, and within the wider society hate you, and will stop at nothing until they are satisfied that you are completely and utterly decimated.
Many black people are rather apprehensive about moving to a red state, because they fear encountering racism there. But the rat bastards in the rat race don’t like you either.
So ask yourself whether you would rather face open racism, or hidden envy disguised as friendship. Not only that, but you may find that you earn respect from all races of men when you support patriarchal causes.
They say that what you don’t know can’t hurt you. But which one actually has the power to hurt you more? Pick your poison, and pick it well. But whatever you choose, it must be a personal decision.
“Jake” has been down on his luck since last year. He went from losing his job, to watching helplessly as his girlfriend left him for some rich douchebag, to ultimately losing his apartment. Sick, homeless and alone, it became obvious with each passing day that this is as good as it will ever get. So he did the only logical thing he could think of doing under the circumstances.
He considered several methods, but finally settled on overdosing. He was always a bit of a hedonist, so he wanted his exit to be as painless as possible. He never used hard drugs a day in his life, yet couldn’t help but notice a couple of heroin addicts sharing a needle some ways over in the distance. So he stole their needle after they had already passed out for the night. Then, in an alleyway, behind a dumpster, Jake got into a comfortable position on a piece of cardboard he called a bed.
Jake then wrote a note,
{Greedy, sadistic pigs only want power and control over the poor. But all I ever wanted was to be happy, healthy and comfortable. Was that too much to ask? You’re finally getting what you’ve always wanted. I hope it was worth it to you.}
He placed the note under a stone, and injected a lethal dose of liquid Fentanyl up his keister. He thought about saying one final prayer, but figured it would be a waste of his damn time. “If God wanted to show up, it would never have to come to this.” That thought made him very angry. Jake then laid on his back, and closed his eyes.
…
The next time he opens his eyes, he immediately realizes that his surroundings are unfamiliar. He is inside some kind of life-sized capsule, hooked up to tubes and monitors, in what seems to be some kind of laboratory. Just then, the alarm on his capsule goes off, and a group of scientists in white lab coats rushes into the room with pens and notepads.
“Orphelius, I see that you are finally awake.” “What!” Jake replies, obviously confused. “The subject is awake,” one scientist says, speaking into some kind of audio recorder. “Heart rate, eighty-five beats per minute. Blood pressure, one-thirty over seventy-five. Pulse, ninety.” another scientist says, writing on a notepad.
“Goddammit!” Jake yells hysterically, “I told you I didn’t wanna be saved.” “The subject is disoriented,” one scientist says. “Get him to recovery on the double,” says another. They open the capsule, and unhook him from all the tubes and wires. Then hurriedly run down the hall while pushing him out to the recovery ward on a gurney. He slips out of consciousness again.
The next time he awakens, he sees a woman sitting on a chair next to his bed. “Orphelius, so nice to see that you are finally awake.” “Who are you?” Jake asks, still dazed. “You would think that after 7000 years, the least a man could do is remember the face of, his own wife,” she jokes.
“My wife??” “Orphelius, why are you acting so strange?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about, lady. Why do you keep calling me by that strange name?”
“Where am I anyway?” “Orphelius, don’t you remember?” “Remember What? Hey, who’s the wise guy with the bright idea to pull a gag like this? I bet it was Vinnie, trying to be slick.”
“Ummm, Okaaay! I am like, completely lost for words right now, but doctor Qualz said he’ll be back in a minute to check on your vitals,” the woman says with a blank stare.
Just now, Dr. Qualz enters the room. “Orphelius, I see that you are awake.” “Look Doc, maybe you can fill me in, huh. There’s a strange lady here who says that she is my wife. And she is calling me by some strange name I ain’t never heard a day in my life.”
“Ok Orphelius, try to relax. Remember, you are still coming out of…” “…Look, it’s Jake, OK! My name’s Jake. Now why don’t you tell me what the hell is going on here.” The doctor and the woman give each other puzzled stares. “Ok then… Jake,” Dr. Qualz nods to the woman to play along, “Why don’t you tell me the last thing you remember?”
“Ok! So, I guess I was homeless, living on the streets of Chicago. It was very cold, and I had to cover with old newspapers. I was starving, sick, and had sores growing all over my skin, and on the inside of my mouth. I didn’t want to live anymore. So I watched a couple of junkies share a heroin needle, and once they had passed out, I took it, and used it to shoot fentanyl up my ass.”
“Fentanyl, you say?” The puzzled doctor asks. “Yeah, all of 20 cc’s, enough to knock off an elephant. And then I woke up here.” “Interesting! May I ask what led you to make that decision?” The doctor asks, writing profusely. “I was depressed after I lost my job. Then my girlfriend left me for some rich asshole. And then I lost my apartment and ended up on the street.”
“This is incredible! This is absolutely incredible!” The doctor exclaims. “That is the strangest thing I have ever heard,” the woman says. “Why would anybody want to live on the street?” “Probably because they don’t have a choice,” Jake replies. “And why would your friend just abandon you for someone else?” “Probably because he’s rich.” “What is rich?” “What is whaah…? Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
“Katanya please! Let me do all the talking,” the doctor says, slightly annoyed. “Orphelius, try to understand. We are trying to help you in the best way possible. But these are all alien concepts to us.” “What do you mean by alien concepts? The world is full of poor people, and the rich douchebags who exploit them. How is that an alien concept?” The doctor and the woman listen intently.
Jake continues, “… and that’s not even the worst part. I never really had a supportive family growing up. I dropped out of school when I was fifteen after my pops kicked the bucket. Just so I could work and help out my moms.
But she was always high, and asleep on the couch when I got home. Then I found out I knocked up some chick from around the block. We used to kick it and smoke weed. Then one day we were alone, and things kind of got out of hand. And the next thing you know, she turns up pregnant.
Twenty years later, I’m thirty-five, and I just don’t get it, man. I mean, I tried to do all the right things in life, and I just don’t know if I’m cursed, or som’n. All my life I’ve gotten the shitty end of the stick. And right now, I’m scared, and I just don’t know what my fucking problem is.”
“What do you mean you’re thirty-five. We’ve been married for over 7000 years. We’re at least 35,000 years old, if even…” “Katanya, that’s enough!” Dr. Qualz exclaimes “Wait, what did you say?” Jake asks. “Orphelius, I think I’ve got it. I think I know what’s going on here.” Dr. Qualz says.
“Well don’t just keep me in suspense, doc. Why don’tcha spill it already,” Jake says impatiently. “Do you remember when you said that you overdosed on this thing called… is it Fentanyl?” “Yeah, what about it?” “Well, that’s just it. It must have been your exit clause. The clause that you initiated in order to exit the assimilation sequence.”
Jake goes from puzzled to scared in under a second, tears starting to well up. “You should have remained inside the assimilation for another 40 of earth’s years. Why did you choose to exit prematurely?” Jake bursts into tears, no longer able to hold them back.
“Now do you remember?” Asks a tearful Katanya. “Yes, I remember, I remember everything.” Orphelius weeps bitterly. “How could I ever forget?” Orphelius tries to console himself as Katanya comforts him. “I spent my whole life thinking that my name was Jake Corville, but my existence is way bigger than that.”
“My name is Orphelius. I lived for thirty-five years as Jake Corville. But then I committed suicide, and woke up in… I guess the afterlife, or som’n. And my name is actually Orphelius.”
“Not the afterlife, Orphelius. Your true life. The one and only life,” Katanya says, “Because, after all, life is just a dream.” “You’re right, my dear. Life is just a dream, and dying is like waking up from that dream. Really more of a nightmare if you asked me.”
“Orphelius, I have some questions about your experience within the assimilation, and if you don’t mind, I’d like to go over them with you now.” Dr. Qualz says. “Sure!” Orphelius replies.
“First things first. You gave your name as Jake Corville. Why two names?” “Everyone had two names back on earth. Your second name is called a surname. It tells what family you were born into, and your first name identifies you as an individual.
“What is a family?” “A man and a woman have sex to produce a child. The woman is the one who gets pregnant, but the child is linked to his father’s bloodline, so he takes on his father’s surname.”
“What is sex?” “Sex is, or at least it was supposed to be, a biological expression of the love that’s shared between a man and a woman. Typically, the man shares his genes with his wife, who would then use it to produce a new life that’s mixed with both their genes.”
“Are two people really able to produce a new being?” “Yes, then that being is born as an infant, and grows into a child, then an adult.” “How are they born?”
“They grow inside their mother’s belly for nine of earth’s months. The baby is born when his mother releases him from her belly. At first, they are really tiny, almost like a little person. Then they grow into an even bigger person, and have children of their own. Eventually, they grow elderly. Then they die.”
“Where do they go when they die?” “I guess the assimilation ends and they wake up here in this lab.” “That’s not always the case, Orphelius. Your case is actually quite unique,” Dr. Qualz says. “Oh! How so?”
“Moving right along. You said that you felt this thing called… cold.” “Yes, there is hot, and there is cold. The air has different feelings that are opposite to each other based on whether it’s day or night, or what time of year it is.”
“Fascinating! What is day and night?” “Night is when the sun goes away, and it gets cold and dark outside.” “The sun actually goes away?” “Yes, everyday for about 10 hours, it gets dark so that we can get some sleep.”
“Sleep? Do you mean to tell me that people enter miniature assimilations within your assimilation? And that they do so everytime the sun goes away? And without the aid of a capsule?”
“Yes, but sometimes they dream, and sometimes they don’t. They don’t sleep to get a trip, they sleep to recharge this big round battery they carry around inside their heads.”
“Intriguing! That’s actually pretty incredible.” “You must be a pretty imaginative person, because I never experienced anything like that during my assimilation. Not even close,” Katanya says.
“I remember some time ago during Katanya’s assimilation. She actually said that she spent most of her time being a flying Muka. And that she could go from the sea to the sky effortlessly,” Dr. Qualz says.
“Yes I remember how cool that must have been,” Orphelius replies. “Her story is actually what motivated me to volunteer for your experiment.”
He continues, “Muka reminds me of an earth species. An odd looking thing they call fish.” “Fish?” Dr. Qualz probes. “At least that’s what they call it in English. And the Spanish word for it is pesca? People actually cooked and ate them like food?”
“What is eat, and what is food?” Katanya asks. “Do you mean to tell me that different people have different words for the same thing?” Dr. Qualz asks. “Sure, they call it language. People look, and speak differently based on where they are from.”
Orphelius continued, “Different people had different skin color based on where in the world they are from. They call it race, and the ignorant people wanted to judge others based solely on their race. They wanted to control the money and all the resources, based on something as external and unchangeable as the way you look.”
“What is money?” “A flimsy, worthless piece of paper. If you have enough of it, you could gain access to the actual resources that you need in order to sustain yourself.
“That’s so bizarre.” “I know! And if you think that’s weird. Men actually kill each other for it. Just to be able to impress some cold, heartless woman.”
“If these are things that you need, then why are they withholding it based on something as flimsy as a piece of paper?” “Because of control. Because they use it as a bargaining chip to validate those who do what they say. Then take it away whenever you step out of line.”
“The more you talk, the more convinced I am that this place you went to. This place called earth, is the most bizarre assimilation story we have ever heard,” Katanya says. “Katanya is right,” Dr. Qualz says.
“Do you remember when I asked you where the people on earth go when they die?” “Yeah!” “You said that they woke up here, but they don’t. You must have been the only sentient being within your assimilation. Every other being you encountered there was only a figment of your imagination.” “You mean like an NPC?” “Sure! Whatever you want to call it.”
“It’s no secret that you have a very powerful imagination, Orphelius. We still don’t understand the magnitude of what you were able to conjure up while you were in there. But it is sure to aid in our scientific research for years to come.” “You mean to tell me that I was like the god of my own little world?” “What’s a god?”
“Oh, that’s right! How could I possibly expect you to know? They worshiped some kind of superior being, who they believed was capable of granting them whatever they wanted, kind of like a genie in a lamp.”
“Well that’s absurd! Why would they do a thing like that?” “Because they think he created them, and that he is capable of granting wishes. Different people worship different gods based on their race. Some races would even kill for their god.”
“The possibility that someone or something could have created us has never really crossed our minds,” Qualz says. “Or who or what they might be,” Katanya says. “Do you really think that someone created us, Orphelius? Is that what you learned while you were inside the assimilation?” Qualz asks.
“I don’t know!” Orphelius exclaimes. “The whole idea just seems kinda silly to me. I always thought that we just so happened to exist out of the blue. I never really thought about how we came into existence, nor did I really care. Come to think of it, we never really questioned much of anything. EVER.”
“Why do you think we never questioned much of anything?” Qualz asks. “Maybe we never really had a reason to,” Orphelius replies. “That’s what I was thinking,” Katanya says.
“Do you remember when you talked about the concept of hot and cold, and night and day?” she continues. “Yeah!” “What would you call that?” she curiously asks.
“They are opposite to each other.” “Oh, so you do have a word to describe it,” Qualz says. “Ok, so we’ll just go along with what you call it, then.” Qualz continues. “Oh, I see what you are saying,” Orphelius says.
“It seems like people only have an incentive to question anything if they are somehow challenged. But not if they are always in a state of absolute perfection,” Orphelius continues. “Incentive. Challenges. Perfection.” Doctor Qualz thinks aloud as he writes profusely.
“I know this must be a lot for you to take in all at once, doc,” Orphelius says. “It is, it’s all so very fascinating,” he replies. “I would love to stay and clue you in some more, but Katanya and I would like to embark on a trip to help me become reacquainted with Eternicus.”
“A trip would be rather delightful,” Katanya smiles at her husband. “How much do you actually remember about Eternicus, anyway?” “Not much! I’ve been gone so long that all I can remember is how vast everything was. So vast, yet so empty.” A look of concern crept upon his face, seemingly out of nowhere.
“What do you mean you have been gone a long time, you were only in there for a couple of weeks,” Katanya says. “The plan was for you to complete a month, but two weeks seems about right for someone who exited the assimilation sequence after only thirty-five of earth’s years.” Qualz says.
“You mean it’s only been a couple of weeks? I guess I have more readjusting to do than I thought.” “Well, don’t let me hold you up Orphelius. You and Katanya have fun, and keep in touch.” The two men shake hands.
“Cover your eyes, Orphelius. I have a surprise for you,” Katanya says. “Ooh, a surprise!” Orpheluis exclaimes. “I hope you don’t mind, doc,” Katanya states. “No, not at all!” Qualz replies.
“No peeking, Orphelius,” Katanya says as she pulles back the window blinds. “You can open them now.” Orphelius is tearfully amazed as he opens his eyes.
“Do you remember the last time you casted your eyes upon the beauty of Eternicus?” Katanya asks, hugging Orphelius from behind. “It’s as beautiful as I remember it. The panoramic mountains, the breathtaking oceans, and the green luscious vegetation. It’s been so long, I can’t wait to dive in again.” “Thanks again for everything, doc. We’ll keep in touch,” Katanya says.
Doctor Qualz waves goodbye as the couple sets sail for their new lives together. “Can you imagine sticking your dick in someone, just to show them how much you love them?” “I know, tell me about it.”
“Isn’t it enough just to love them for the companionship of being together?” “Earthlings, right?” The couple says, walking away and laughing together as their dialogue fizzles out in the distance.
Orphelius and Katanya try getting their lives back on track. They go on many great adventures together. They go skiing, kayaking, snorkeling and horseback racing.
They roll around in the grass as they laugh and frolic in the sun. All was right with the world. But then, Orphelius started to notice that something was amiss.
Everything was too perfect. It was always daytime, it never rained or snowed on Eternicus, and it was neither hot nor cold. There was no crime or poverty. No politics or economics. Nothing to fight or die for, and no religion too.
One received instant gratification for everything they could ever want. There were no losses. It wasn’t long before Orphelius began to notice that everything was always the same. And then, he began to remember.
“Orphelius, Katanya, it’s always a pleasure. To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?” “You gotta put me back in, doc. I can’t take another day of this. I’m damn near outta my mind,” Orphelius pleads frantically. “Ok, try to relax Orphelius. Why don’t you tell me what happened?”
“I don’t know what happened to him, doc. Everything was fine, then he just got upset out of the blue, and he wouldn’t tell me why. Only that we had to come back here.” “No worries my dear, let me handle this.”
“I finally figured it out, doc. The whole point of going to earth in the first place. The whole point of being born as an infant in a world so full of pain and despair. It was meant to give life its meaning by adding contrast and polarity into the mix,” Orphelius says as Dr. Qualz writes profusely.
He continues, “We have been living in an absolute utopia this whole time, and didn’t even know how to appreciate it, because we had nothing else to compare it to. It is because we know that our loved ones will die someday, that we cherish every moment we have with them. It is because we know that we will also die someday, that we value our time, and try to make the days count. It is because we experienced bankruptcy and unemployment at some point or other, that we will cherish every dollar as if it was our last. It is because of scarcity, that we will pursue abundance. What motivation would we have to do anything if there truly wasn’t anything to challenge our concept of abundance?”
Qualz and Katanya look on in silence.
“I think I finally understand. I see it clear as day. It is the necessity of pain that gives meaning to all of existence. So you see, I have to go back in. Because being back here again, and being bored out of my mind so soon after returning, made me remember why I volunteered for the experiment in the first place.”
“Going back in is completely unheard of. You would be the first volunteer in all of Eternicus to go back inside an assimilation upon exiting. The repercussions could be cataclysmic. I’m just not sure if it’s worth the risk.”
“Let me worry about the risk, buddy. You just worry about loading it up.” “Now wait just a minute here…” “Orphelius, you’re being erratic. Why don’t you just listen to doctor Qualz’s advice? We’ll figure something out. We’ll make it better.”
“No Katanya, I’ve had enough of this dump. Like it or not, I’m getting out of Dodge.” “Please Orphelius,” she tearfully pleads with him. “I just don’t see the point, Orphelius. It’s not like you can go back to being Jake Corville. He’s already dead, and you killed him.” Qualz says.
Silence fills the air.
“If you go back in, you might have to be born as an infant, and start life all over again,” Qualz continues. “That’s not an alien concept to me. I think they call it reincarnation.” Orphelius says as Dr. Qualz writes profusely.
“I’m willing to be reincarnated and start life all over again as a different person. Whatever it takes just to get out of here.” “Reincarnation sounds like a fascinating theory to explore. I would love to have the chance to study it in depth.” “Great, so then it’s settled. Load it up.” Orphelius says, already halfway inside the capsule pod.
“Oh no you don’t,” Katanya says, “You’re not taking off without me this time.” She continues, climbing into a separate capsule pod. “I want to find out about this sex business you won’t shut up about.”
Dr. Qualz is left standing there, looking lost.
“Wait for meeee!” He jumps into a third capsule pod, presets it to end in a month, then takes off.
…
In the alleyway, behind a dumpster, a homeless lady is about to give birth on the streets, in the freezing rain. Her head perched atop a trash bag filled with bottles and cans. “Push Monique, Push! Push! Push!” Her friend says frantically. They were out collecting bottles from the trash, when they got caught in the rain, and Monique unexpectedly went into labor prematurely.
“Push Monique, Push! You’re almost there. I can see the head.” Monique lets out a blood curdling scream. Then the cries of a newborn can be heard. “It’s a boy, it’s a boy!” Her friend says. “I have always wanted a boy.” Monique cries tears of joy. “He’s really tiny, but he’s a beautiful baby boy,” Her friend says.
“I think so, too,” Monique says, “I want to give him the best possible life that a mother can give to her child. I just don’t know how I’mma manage.” “You don’t have to go through this alone. We’ll all be there for you, every step of the way. I know you’ll be a great mom.” “That’s reassuring to know. I would love to give him the best life possible. I only hope that I didn’t pass HIV on to my son during childbirth.”
“Hey, what’s that smell?” Monique’s friend sniffs the air. “Hey, I smell it, too.” Monique says, “It smells like a dead rat, or something.” Unbeknownst to the two women, there is a piece of cardboard on the other side of the dumpster. And on it, lies the remains of a homeless man, with a heroin needle, and a suicide note.
In the realm of self-made men, there are some who have claimed the black pill as their preferred ideology. Or perhaps the black pill claimed them. Then there are those who truly believe that they are black pilled. But how could that be if all they do is complain about women?
There is a specific group of men calling themselves incels, short for involuntary celibate. An incel is a straight male who believes that he is unable to get laid. In response to feeling defeated in life, incels have taken to social media to vent their frustration about their predicament.
They have joined several online support groups. In the midst of panic, many incels have turned to the black pill, hoping to find solace. They are more than welcome to join. But if all they want to do is complain about women all day, then they have misunderstood the true meaning of being black pilled.
The black pill is believed to be built on the premise of nihilism. Inspired by the works of Camus and Schopenhauer, the black pill is intended to shine a light on the absurdity of life. But to be nihilistic is to be hopeless and to give in to despair. Is nihilism the best mindset for the black pill? Is that how you want to live? Hopeless?
The black pill is a path towards total freedom. Nihilism seems to be the very opposite of how one should want to live. In fact, if you practice nihilism as a part of your black pill journey, you will not live at all. Life would pass you by, and you wouldn’t truly have lived.
I understand that the way the world is, and the way people are would make you not want to care anymore, and rightfully so. You are well within your rights to not care. But you are going about it the wrong way. To be nihilistic is to be hopeless about one’s own conditions, but to be nonchalant is to not care about anyone or anything going on around you.
It is one thing to experience existential nihilism or societal nihilism, but personal nihilism is self-defeating. It is not wise to be neglectful of your own well-being as some forms of nihilism might suggest.
There are too many young men claiming to be black pilled, who are taking their own lives in the name of nihilism. Those men are considered Doomers, an extreme branch of the black pill.
The black pill is not meant for everyone, as it is a very intense journey, and a very lonely one at that. If you want to know the truth about this world, you must be prepared to pay a very steep price for it. Not everyone can handle that truth. And once you go black, you can never go back.
So first, you must make up your mind as to whether the black pill is how you truly want to live. And tread very carefully. The path of the black pill can get really dark at times. Yet it is so rewarding and liberating in the long run. Nihilism is not the most effective way to enlighten your path on the black pill journey, as it will only further darken it.
It is when you are truly nonchalant about life that your path will be enlightened. That precious moment when you realize that you truly do not give a damn what anyone thinks or says is when you have reached a dangerously awesome level of freedom.
It will be a truly satisfying and liberating feeling. It will feel as though a huge burden has been lifted off your shoulders. That is the day you will truly live life on your own terms. A master of your own domain.
I must warn you however that being nonchalant is not something that can be faked. It’s either you care, or you don’t. But if you try to be nonchalant when you know you still care, you will only drive yourself mad. Stoicism is pretending not to care, and nonchalance is not caring at all. Confusing the two can be quite tragic.
Nonchalance comes naturally for me, right down to my molecular structure. Not everyone can do what I can, so be honest with yourself. For me, it was nature and nurture. Something that I practiced until I became better at it overtime. It was more challenging to remain nonchalant when I was young and blue pilled.
But the more black pilled I became, the easier it was for me to be nonchalant. If you are black pilled and you think you have the potential to be nonchalant, my advice is to embrace that side of you and practice to become more perfectly nonchalant.
When you are nonchalant, you are pessimistic about society, yet optimistic about your own life. You know that the whole world went to hell in a handbasket. But it does not make a difference to you, or how you choose to live.
If people are fake, do not entertain them. If women are shallow, treat them as you would a rabid dog. If sex is important to you, find a way to get laid without approaching strange women. If employers are dishonest, build your own company right across the street from them, and steal all of their longtime customers right under their nose.
Whatever you do, do not give energy to anything that doesn’t serve you. The world only seems to notice you when you become nonchalant. Do not be deceived. They are only interested in you for their own selfish gain, which further proves how shallow they really are.
At that point, you are well within your rights to tell them to go fuck themselves. If the thought of telling people to go fuck themselves somehow rubs you the wrong way, you are NOT nonchalant. The ultimate test. If you are not nonchalant, the black pill is truly not meant for you.
Many people have varying ideas about sexual immorality, from incest to polygyny to homosexuality. For some reason, hedonism often gets a bad rap, but that is only part of the broader issue.
It gets to the point where society would much rather label hedonistic straight men as metrosexuals, simply because they are not used to seeing straight men having good taste for the finer things in life.
Anything you are doing that they do not like will be mislabeled as sexual immorality. For that reason, the concept of sexual immorality has become so skewed by definition, that it has lost its original meaning. Here in this article, I will be putting sexual immorality back into its proper context.
Sexual immorality is defined as a sexual act that offends someone else. How do you sexually offend someone in a way that is valid? By forcing them to do something against their will. What kind of individuals are likely to get forced into a sex act against their will?
A woman being raped by a man who is able to physically overpower her. A minor being molested by an adult. An animal being raped by a human. Or an intoxicated person who is not fully in charge of their mental faculties at the moment.
As you can see, every sexual offense involves a power dynamic that allows for the more vulnerable party to be violated. In order for a crime to be committed, three conditions must be met. There must be motive, ability and opportunity.
Ability and opportunity might both be present, but if there is no motive, no crime will be committed. How does one become a victim if the would-be offender is not remotely interested in sexually engaging them to begin with?
And so therefore, they have no business getting offended by you doing something that does not involve them in the least. As a matter of fact, they are sticking their nose where it doesn’t belong because they were not even supposed to know what you are doing.
Two homosexual men having sex with each other is not immoral so long as they are mutually consenting adults. This is coming from a homophobic Jamaican. I may be offended by the sight of them holding hands in public. But I also respect their human rights to be who they are, and love who they love.
Two blood relatives are free to commit acts of incest. So long as they are mutually consenting adults in the privacy of their home, and they have made up their minds that that is what they both want to do. As much as how the mere thought of incest makes me cringe, it would be rather hypocritical of me to only respect the consent of two gay lovers, but not the consent of kissing cousins.
The 40 year old incel who made up his mind that he is finally going to pay an escort to lose his virginity is not committing a mortal sin by fornicating. As a matter of fact, fornication is a made up word that the church uses to shame and guilt people who are more sexually liberated.
They do so by telling them that they are going to burn in hell for eternity, just for simply getting it on. Imagine that! Burning in hell alongside scammers, rapists and murderers for all eternity, just because you decided to go out and get laid.
The polygynist who has multiple wives and concubines is not committing a sin by not committing his entire life to one woman only. His polygyny is merely the result of a different point of view. The story of creation should be unique and diverse. Imagine how boring life would be if everyone was the same.
The hedonistic male suitor who has decided to play the field is not committing a sin by refusing to go steady. Marriage and kids are a huge responsibility. It takes a special level of patience to be a husband and father. So it is definitely not meant for everyone. Imagine how mundane life would be waking up next to the same woman, everyday for the next 50 years.
Watching her age more and more with each passing day. Finding it hard to maintain the same level of attraction you once had for her as she gains weight and begins acting out her insecurities in ways that are both toxic and immature. Wondering if you made the right decision by going steady.
Quit stressing over it. It is perfectly ok to play the field so long as you are honest about your intentions right from the jump. Whatever you do, do not lead people on, or intentionally break their hearts. Do unto others!
Perhaps controlling individuals believe that those acts are immoral because they are not able to exploit them for their own selfish gain. If anything, it is the controlling party who are immoral for trying to stand in the way of you doing what you want. Afterall, sexual repression is a form of sex abuse, especially when there is a spiritual factor involved.
Even if they don’t like what you are doing, it is not their place to stop you, so long as you are not violating others. That would be them trying to play god over your life. Which makes them an enemy of your privacy, and an enemy of free will.
The examples of sexual immorality that I have mentioned so far are entirely related to consent, or rather, the lack of it. Well sexual repression is also related to consent, because one typically does not consent to being sexually repressed.
Nor do they consent to being ruled by those who are external to their experience. That is something that they are being forced to accept against their will. So when controlling individuals are imposing their moral standards upon you unsolicitedly, they are sexually violating you. Which in turn makes them sexually immoral.
It’s ironic how when you point one finger outwards, there are always three more pointing right back at you. Not only that, but they are hypocrites because they have some skeletons in their closet (often literally), that will make your so-called sins look like a Sunday stroll by comparison.
All of them have their own personal issues that they need to address. Yet all they seem able to focus on is what you do in the privacy of your bedroom? What the hell is wrong with people?
We need to start taking them to court for harassment. They need to know that there are consequences for their actions. Especially when it is becoming an obsession.
No one has the right to deprive you of peace of mind. Some of them are really ignorant, and narrow-minded. But perhaps with a little education, they will see the error of their ways before it is too late.
Do you often feel as though your life is one great calamity after another? From bankruptcy, to illness, to legal troubles, to the death of a loved one. Furthermore, it seems like bad things always happen to good people. Yet the wicked cheat death for the ten thousandth time. Do you ever wonder why that always seems to be the case? I have a theory as to why that is, and what you can do to fix it for once and for all.
Sado-masochism is a “relationship” (exchange) in which you somehow feel compelled to love the one you fear. Sado-masochistic relationships can occur romantically, familially, platonically, or employment wise. It is a form of toxic trauma bonding, and always involves the person in the submissive position being gaslit, physically abused, or otherwise humiliated, solely for the amusement of the sadist.
The question is, why would any self-respecting person assume the submissive position within a sado-masochistic exchange? or better yet, even enter such an exchange to begin with, if they are not naturally masochistic?
To begin with, there are only three kinds of people on earth; sadists, masochists and hedonists. Sadists gain amusement from causing pain and humiliation. Masochists gain pleasure from receiving pain. And hedonists gain pleasure from both giving and receiving pleasure. Of the three, who do you think is the healthiest personality type?
Sadists are always on the prowl, seeking who they may devour. For them, the thrill is in the hunt. They don’t particularly enjoy hurting masochists, because they won’t put up much of a fight. Plus they rather enjoy it. For a sadist, the single greatest sense of satisfaction comes from watching a pleasure seeker squirm, as he forces them into a position where they betray their very nature. This is especially true if the sadist is envious of them.
Who do you think the pleasure seeker in question is? But what self-respecting hedonist would end up in a sado-masochistic exchange with a sadist? And yet it happens much more often than you think. First, the sadist intentionally decides to target the hedonist with a friendly gesture that carefully masks a more sinister motive.
But then, it’s usually not long before the mask begins to slip, and you begin noticing red flags. Hedonists are more likely to be empathic than the other two personality types. They want just as much good for others as they want for themselves. And due to their empathic nature, they tend to want to see the good in others.
The sadist knows this about the hedonist, and will exploit it to their advantage to buy the extra time they need to inflict further pain on the hedonist, just to rub it in. As such, they will gaslight an unsuspecting hedonist into believing that they have changed, thus begging the hedonist’s forgiveness. If not themselves, they will send some of their henchmen to do so on their behalf.
This act of remorse is all just a ploy, and a mockery of the hedonist’s intelligence. Even so, the hedonist will likely give the sadist way more chances than they could ever possibly deserve. This is usually achieved through the social pressure of the sadist’s henchmen, or the naivety of a rookie hedonist. They “love” you when you are young and dumb. A seasoned veteran would never fall for the ruse.
The next thing you know, your whole life starts heading straight down the toilet. From illness, to bankruptcy, to legal battles, to the death of a loved one. Yet the wicked seem to cheat death ten thousand times, and you wonder why. Well why do you think?
I have a theory.
You see, forgiveness should only be reserved for those who are genuinely remorseful, and have taken the necessary steps to make reparations to you for damage caused. It is entirely up to you whether you want to differentiate between unintentional damage and intentionally misguided damage. But when you forgive someone who does not deserve forgiveness, their karmic debt backfires on you.
This is because you are unknowingly signaling to the universe that you are not good enough to be deserving basic human dignity. Not only that, but also that you are more deserving of the offensive act committed by the sadist, than the sadist himself is deserving retribution for said act.
So now what happens?
There is now a karmic debt transferral where you witness the sadist living the very hedonistic lifestyle that was meant for your enjoyment in the first place. All while your life is going to shit. Your life is not even your own at that point, and the sadist will be sure to mock you by rubbing it in on every occasion.
This karmic debt transferral is why many people often confuse hedonism for narcissism. They are confused by the sadist acting in a hedonistic manner, failing to realize that it is all just a ruse. Some hedonists may be narcissistic, but they are likely not narcissists. That dishonor is only reserved for the sadist.
Very few hedonists, in fact, I would even venture to say that NO hedonist derives pleasure from someone else’s pain. Of course, this is not to be confused with the feeling of satisfaction that you get when someone who has repeatedly done you wrong without remorse, finally receives their just desserts. That is a feeling of justice, but it doesn’t necessarily mean that their pain is what the hedonist is enjoying about the experience.
For example, if a sadist has murdered the son of a hedonist, and receives capital punishment. The hedonist will probably attend the execution, and will no doubt feel satisfied when his son’s murderer is put to death. But he more than likely will not enjoy it. The hedonist will mourn for a while. Then he will remember that life goes on, and get back to doing what he truly enjoys.
That tragedy may even remind him that life is too short and precious. And that he should savor the good times with good people, instead of getting caught up with a time waster as malignant as sado-masochism.
When you forgive the wrong person, or entertain the mistaken impression that they are your friend, their karmic debt backfires onto you. Perhaps it even doubles in intensity because you really ought to know better. But when you refuse to forgive them, that same karma has no choice but to attack its intended target. It is like an energetic tennis match, and that is all it takes to even the score. You just have to learn how to play the game.
It is the expectation of society that most western, straight men are macho. It is even worse if you are black, or if you otherwise come from a more “urban” setting. Because then, if you are neither a thug, nor an athlete/rapper, you are considered weird. Some may even go so far as to assume that you are gay. It doesn’t help that you keep your room neat, and that you probably like having nice things.
As a result of all of the above, what you commonly find is that people who generally fit that profile are often ostracized by the community of their origin. They have even gone so far as to coin a term to refer to you. They call you, the Metrosexual. But what exactly is a metrosexual? Are they using this term out of context?
A metrosexual, so far as they have described him, is a heterosexual male who enjoys luxuries. He tends to enjoy them noticeably more than that of the average straight man. He is often a well to do male bachelor, who lives rather lavishly in a metropolitan setting, hence the label in question.
He would much rather entertain the company of beautiful women on any given evening, than to be hanging out with his buddies, watching sports. He is always neat and orderly, with keen attention to detail. A stark contrast to the stereotype of the sloppy, buffoonish straight man. His tastes are opulent, his speech is eloquent, and the way he expresses it is sure not to go unnoticed.
It seems at first, that the feedback he is receiving from the general public is one of admiration. But it is usually not too long after, that admiration turns to criticism. The people with whom he interacts are often dumbfounded in deciding what to make of him. So they just assume that he is gay. Or that somehow there is just something inherently wrong with him.
What society may consider a calm and mild-mannered character, may actually be their misunderstanding of the suave and sophisticated mannerisms that the metrosexual in question likes to exude. It’s just that he is usually very selective as to when he chooses to show it. And most importantly, with whom.
They already have a stereotype in their heads as to how a straight man ought to be. So when they do realize that he is undoubtedly straight, they cannot fully accept this fact. As such, they created the label of a metrosexual, and slapped it on him hoping it would stick. Everyone in society bought it, and went back to living a life of convenience without having to think too much. And the so-called metrosexual in question never had a chance.
As someone who easily fits the profile of a metrosexual, I am very much offended and disgusted by that label. Whenever they use that term, they are basically suggesting that there is no way one can be fully straight, while being so disciplined and orderly. So then they label you a metrosexual, thinking that it will somehow take something away from you being a heterosexual.
They don’t really care whether or not you are actually straight. They just want to make sure that you are left feeling misunderstood. Because you failed to meet their expectations of how a straight man should be. The only proof they could possibly have of you being gay, is if they caught you in bed with another man. The rest is nothing more than stereotypes. When in fact, who you really are, is a hedonist.
Everything that they have used to describe the so-called metrosexual, also describes a hedonist. A hedonist is someone who has fine taste for all things luxurious and pleasurable. Sex is but one form of hedonism, and the hedonist refuses to allow his hedonism to be reduced to only his sexuality.
Most of his hedonistic indulgences are platonically rooted. Now don’t get me wrong, sex is of the utmost importance to a hedonist. But, he also enjoys traveling, dining, art, wine tasting, long walks on the beach, cozy evenings by the fireplace, etc.
So for society to label someone as a metrosexual, is to reduce his entire being, and all of his life experiences down to merely his sexuality. If a metro-sexual, why not a metro-social? Why not a metro-socialite? But then again, why metro anything? Sexual or otherwise! Why not just call me a hedonist?
You see, social labels are created by narcissistic control freaks, who feel it is their place to define you. First, they approach you under the guise of friendship. And it is usually not long after, that you begin to notice that not only are they not interested in any kind of genuine friendship, but that they actually chose to target you for a sado-masochistic relationship. A one-sided exchange where you feel obligated to love the ones you fear. Where they are amused by your humiliation, and how well you can take it.
They want to reduce you down to nothing more than either your race, gender, or sexual orientation. It is usually something external like that. Their “friends” (henchmen) are only there to help them reinforce the negative labeling and stereotyping of the targeted individual in question. And they had better do it, or else the ring leader will turn on them next.
They are cowards, because everyone in the gang realizes just how powerless and vulnerable the ring leader actually is. And by all accounts, they should just gang up on the ring leader, until he or she has no choice but to flee. But still, they refuse. Not only that, but they are hypocrites for having a double standard when it comes to choosing which one of the hedonists they are going to target.
They likely envy hedonists all across the board, but only seem to have enough courage for a hedonist from their side of the tracks. Someone who feels safe and familiar to them. Do you have any idea how much courage it takes to be your true, authentic self in a world full of fakes? But I guess that is what makes them all so despicable.
Sado-masochism is like captivity for a hedonist. And it is more likely to happen early in life when we are still inexperienced as to who we are, and how much power we actually have over our own lives. If only we knew exactly who we are, we would know that hedonists rule with love. A love for ourselves, a love for the sweet delicacies of life, and a love for those who love us too.
A sado-masochistic exchange is actually the very opposite of hedonism. It is vile, evil and disgusting. The mere thought that someone who claims that they love you, would actually allow themselves to take you for granted, is reprehensible. No hedonist who actually knows what it means to be a hedonist, would ever allow anyone to treat them that way.
That is how most people in society are. Females are skeptical of you, and would rather date the thug, or the buffoon over you. Deep down inside, they know the truth. They just don’t want to admit it. Not even to themselves. Either way, it’s their loss. It is truly a pity they won’t get to experience that the hedonistic male is actually the better catch. After all, we do make better lovers.
We are charming, romantic, and sophisticated. We have exquisite taste for the finer things in life, and will literally spoil the dress off any woman. We are perfect for women who are actually healthy. Our enemies know it, otherwise they would not be working night and day to try and stop us from doing what we want.
Hedonistic men have an extra responsibility to thoroughly scrutinize the kind of women we allow into our lives. Ghetto girls aren’t meant for us. Regular girls aren’t good for us. We should settle for nothing less than the absolute best. Our hedonistic equals as it were.
It would also help if you were to change social class. No one in your social circles would have a problem with your hedonism if they are also of a higher caliber. Believe me, it is the only way. Otherwise, prepare to live a reclusive life, long term. But whatever you do, do not allow just about any random person to enter your spiritual aura. They are not worth it.
