A solid power base requires diversification of interests.

A lot of what is said on game forums gets past our P.C. think self-tarding blinkers and puts things in a harsh and useful perspective.

Thinking in terms of power dynamics is one such perspective.

The man must wage war, fight, and earn social domination. Relationship is NOT about compromise. It’s about power.

Having options is one key to power in a relationship.

After a lifetime of painting oneself into a corner, a man looks around in shock and says “This is not my beautiful house! This is not my beautiful wife!”

The problem isn’t that he didn’t treat the marriage with the appropriate level of game, inspiring attraction in his mate. The problem isn’t that his wife turned on him. It’s that he spent his entire life painting himself into a corner.

Options, options, options. Passport. Portable forms of income. Options with other girls or the ability to get them.

And why not apply that life philosophy to children? Is the nuclear family the only, or even the best way to love kids? Even granting that it could be the best, a strategic approach would be to live a life that is the enactment of planning options. The kids should have an extended network of support, such that if you leave, they can prosper.

Never have a life with only one road in front of you. If you do, it’s your fault to be stuck in boring go nowhere traffic congestion, not the fault of the other people on the road.

When married my wife would complain “You know marriage takes work. You have to take me out on dates. Keep things fresh.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I didn’t want to keep things fresh.

It took me a while to learn that you can’t tell yourself what to want. If you don’t want it, that’s that. Emotions are not a decision.

People who say that love is a choice and marriage is hard work have a very different notion of relationship than I do.

I follow my passions, I don’t enforce a lifestyle in the hope that passions will follow. Passions don’t follow.

People who plan for an elderly mate to wipe their ass in old age are not following passions. They compromise in the name of a commitment to security, and wind up with a passionless life. While risk takers live a life of passion. And loss. And renewal. And passion. We get springtimes of love, over and over. And summers and autumns and winters. Renewal.

Why indeed work to save a marriage? Work hard for something you don’t even want.

Let it die.

Protecting a marriage is like protecting an alpine forest from fire. It’s ecologically unsound, and you wind up with a raging uncontrollable inferno from all the built up deadwood anyway.

Marriage is like global cooling. At first the winters get longer, then approaches the glacier. How to cope? Build igloos? Roam across the tundra with wife and reindeer? Why cope at all when you can migrate to the places where the brown skinned girls are.

Protecting a marriage is like defending a snow fort. It seems important at the time, but you grow out of it.

Some of my blog comments over at roissy.wordpress.com

I haven’t been blogging much lately, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been writing.  I harnessed my narcissism to drag over some of my comments from there to here.    This was from the first few pages of a google search; there are trillions more over there.

Men try to win the argument in order to win over the group, women try to win over the group, in order to win the argument.

That’s how I know who are the women on this board.

I’m only slowly realizing why DA brings out revulsion in me.

He is the antichrist.  The anti joy.  The anti life.  The anti struggle.  The anti personal betterment.  He is unholy, like stagnant water.

I don’t know why people have this aversion to marketting, and aversion to propoganda. Aversion to social manipulation. As if it is somehow cheating or fake to have some charisma and stage presence.

Eighty percent of men fuck like little boys, coming in under twenty minutes, at very best.

Eightey percent of men prefer to be stuck in a comfortable rut.

Eighty percent of men pull statistics out of their ass, in times of need to make a valid point.

Of the remaining twenty percent, few have the inspiration or aptitude to learn how to date. Dating involves endless new experiences. Most people don’t have the stomach for it.

When I got married, at 24, I gave my wife a $10 silver ring. Actually, it cost me $2.50, as I bought rings wholesale for my business.

After the divorce, she wore it for years.

The wedding cost me nothing, unless you count the years of torment.

Smart guys very often enjoy hot stupid girls. Sexual chemistry is a surprising brew – the mixtures that work are not always the expected formulas.

And for a smart guy, smarter chicks are way easier to game. You can dazzle them with your wit and they get off on that. Dumb chicks could care less.

Talking with dumb chicks is similar to talking with kids. You don’t exactly have to dumb down the conversation, and you certainly don’t have to choose topics that bore you. Instead you make inside jokes that she is unlikely to get, for your own entertainment. Consider the best childrens cartoons – they are understandable by the kiddies, but have themes and jokes that interest adults.

You can still use your wit with dumb girls, but the focus tends to be more body and emotion centric, as that’s mostly where your chemistry will lie. You can still make them laugh and enjoy your own jokes – even if they won’t get the full nuances of your insights.

People have a tendency to make mental maps to help them navigate the world, and then to overlay those simple maps onto everything, even when direct observation is available.

That’s the basis of predjudice – pre-judging based on expectations.

We need mental maps. The laziness arises from an aversion to cognitive dissonance that arises when the real nuanced world requires us to adjust our mental models.

Most people solidify their mental maps by age 5. Jeesus loves me, yes I know, cause my Mommy told me so. It’s emotionally impossible for them to alter their core beliefs.

Maurice

we have great and interesting talks all the time.

Congrats, dude.

As i said, I’ve had that a few times. It was a bit different than talking with men, as women on the whole tend to take disagreement as criticism or disapproval, because on the whole women identify with their thoughts, rather than have thoughts.

But no matter if it’s men or women, most people are dull. Of the rare few that aren’t, what percentage do you want to fuck? And of those, what percent do you want to date?

Here in Asia, the opportunities to find an interesting conversationalist female are extremely slim. I gave up a long time ago, and assume that those needs must be met elsewhere.

I’d much prefer to have the conversation again. I used to miss it – now I’ve just forgotten what it was.

But even with access to talking with women on the internet – I think you have to agree – the percentage of interesting woman is a small fraction of the percentage of interesting men. Women are too conflict averse to engage, on the whole. The rare few that engage and are are fun – like Betti or Aoeffe, for instance, aren’t next door. And I don’t cyber date unless I have plans to travel.

My first few years in Asia were bitterly disappointing, in that the women were nowhere near intellectual peers. Boring to tears. It took years of adjustment to just stop looking for them to be, and get from them what I got – sex and companionship and house maintanance and secretarial work and a glass of carrot juice and a blowjob in the morning.

When there are no tourists to hang with, the internet substitutes for male conversation. I like the blog format – thoughts can be well articulated.

Women want to fall in love with an Alpha, tame him and therebey lower his testosterone and turn him into a married Beta provider, and then get some opportunistically on the side or leave him if something better shows up.

It is a war of the sexes. Women are largely unaware of this, and consider themselves a sisterhood of devout angels.

xsplat

OF COURSE NOT. A Beta is ALWAYS Beta. Was always Beta. From the Dawn of Time. An Alpha is ALWAYS Alpha. Was always Alpha.

Not so at all Men rise and fall, and along with our fortunes so does our testosterone. And confidence.

We are like zebrafish in that way. We don’t get larger or smaller, more and less agressive, depending on how much territory we control.

Men and women know this.

xsplat

Brad

If the goal is to marry and alpha and turn him into a beta and then ditch that person when something better comes along (did this happen as a result of the laws in our society,..

Women don’t consciously decide to fall out of love, any more than men do. It seems part of our biology that its the norm to fall out of romantic love after one or two years. The difference worth noting about women is that they are opportunistic feeders of two things: 1)Alpha sperm, and 2)An Alpha protector.

Men are opportunistic about pussy in a cute young body.

As soon as they are married, women do their damnedest to turn the Alpha into a private toy boy. This is not due to laws – it’s female nature. The strategy of her genes, played out into her subconscious instincts.

It’s in the womens genes best interest to cuckold a child, or change partners, and not have all her kids from the same dad. So not even Donald Trump can stop keeping a close eye on Ivana, or whoever he is “married” to. And they got divorced – possibly because she got uber-bitchy, and initiated divorce through nagging.

As for the rest of your questions, I’ll let other interested parties throw in their view, as the whole concept of marriage disgusts me. I”m out of that game, and prefer muchly other games.

I’ve got Al Jazeera on my TV right now. An enormously respectable source of news, information, and commentary. I’m seeing crowds of Arabs, fomenting in the street. They sure do get emotional and passionate.

Too emotional? Too passionate? By who’s perspective can we say what is too much or too little? I speak for the Kingdom of Me when I say they seem off the wall. Off the black and holy wall of Meca. Out of their heads drugged up on emotion. Worse than women.

I don’t trust people who get that wacked out on emotion.

xsplat

dana

a man who doesn’t always think before he acts can end up doing something stupid and violent in his youth that makes him go to jail is ALSO usually rash enough to run into a fire to save their woman or jump in front of a bullet for her.

Dana, I think the truth is more sinister.

Women see men as expendable. Let them take risks. She’ll keep the house after he’s dead, and find a new savior.

Maurice – of course we agree that females are attracted to risk takers.  But risk takers are gamblers, right? Therefore the females are also gambers. Right?

So the male gamber is expendable. The female uses the male as the proxy for her gambling habits.

Cinderellas, all of them.

Maurice, in human tribes, it’s more complicated than braun. There are too many avenues to the top. Sometimes the top is not even the position of king.

Women hedge.

They use men as gambling chips.  I’m sure you heard that women fuck alphas, and settle with betas?

Hedging the bet.

Hypergamous. Social climbers. Men are the tools, not the ends.

I agree, the woman doesn’t know she’s gambling.

She is.

We agree.

The woman is in love. Until the bad boy is dead or leaves her. And while she shops for a man with an impressive insurance portfolio.

Nuther words? Men are expendible.

Not emotionally. Practically.

Women love bad boys, and don’t much care that they might die – on the level of the inner gambler in her.

Women gamble.

They are social climbers, taking risks, just like the bad boys.

Mandy, pain can release endorphins, which causes pleasure.

Sometimes people rise from licking nipples to gently biting, to hard biting.

Sometimes people then experiment with a little ass slapping.

It takes off from there.

The intention is not insult. It’s a step by step process. An effective one.

Penu

Naive men who have been taught that women like nice guys invariably end up as bitter woman-haters because of this.

Ya, the stage after disillusionment can be anger. But eventually comes acceptance.

Nothing wrong with a good devilish whore. I love mine.

S – talking about raw chemistry versus intellectual compatibility, and the difficulty of getting both

Sure, that’s all good and true, but I’m entering a professional field. I need someone I can relate to intellectually too.

Ya, ideally we all want that, don’t we?

I know to which side I lean, when I make my compromises. I like my life to be sexually supercharged, and when it isn’t, a little bit of me dies inside each day.

I want and need to be very alive. Intellectual compatibility is important, and nurturing, and good. But not sufficient. At bare minimum I need high capacity super-sex.

Ideally, I’d have it all. Till then, I have what I need most.

O, riffin “To me, when I hear the word “cool” I think of…”

I think of teenagers and in crowds and out crowds.

I’m more into trans-cool. Beyond even meta-cool. A place where George Gershwin cool.

Not about in-group and out group. Not about meta-narrative.

About panache.

o be fair, men are also being encouraged to be out of control in a lot of ways, like binge drinking, but not in the ways they would most likely enjoy, like punching whores in the face and raping them–since those lead to jail.

Actually, Jack the ripper is not a normal guy who lost his inhibitions. He’s just a sociopath with violent tendencies.

Most sociopaths don’t have violent tendencies. So he’s an outlier of outliers.

It’s not like our anger is under the surface and controlled. It’s that people are stupid and piss us off, and should stop that. After we tell them twice. And after we ignore them as long as possible. And after we move away from their sphere.

And after that?

Well,that’s the attitude most people have. Kill, yes, but not first or second option.

Humans who are not sociopaths don’t want to kill.

I think the biggest problems western men face, problems that lead to depression, are stress and lack of pussy.

Living in the west is a high stress low satisfaction arrangement. Long work hours, expensive rents, high expectations. And pussy that is most attracted to the successful man.

Moving to Asia lifted my years long bouts with depression and anxiety. The lowered stress levels took a year or two to sink all the way into my body, but what a change. What a lifestyle and life change.

And the pussy. Non-monogamous dating suits me very well. Much easier in Asia.

I’d never live in the west again without bringing a bunch of Asian gals, travelling a lot, and being wealthy. Being middling to lower class there sucks sucks sucks. Dreary and stressful.

Did you ever consider giving stupid chicks a whirl? They are frustrating and unsatisfying for conversation, but are easily dominated and can be great fun.

I know it’s an odd mindset. One my younger self would never imagine I’d be writing about. Enjoying stupid girls.

It’s like sex without love. Sure, it’s not as good as sex with love, but its still sex, and sex is still good. Dating dumb girls is similar. Not the whole package, but a package.

And as for crazy, I would believe. MOST women are crazy. It’s usually only a matter of degree. Women are nuts, and many are bat-girl nuts.

I’d take a stupid fun girl who is not nuts over a smart nutjob any day, thank you.

I’ve mentioned that I no longer hold out for the whole package – but I do have some experience with dating very intelligent women. I even did date a whole package girl once. Even proposed. In the long run it turned out better that she went for a guy with a preferred passport, as now she lives as a feminist man hating rarely fucking depressive workaholic. And the other highly intelligent women all had their highly intelligent issues. Major drama. Always.

Nuff of that noise. Make me my carrot juice, give me a blowjob, put on your sexy dress, we’re going out. Shhh, don’t talk.

I had one girlfriend who, when asked about the handmark on her face, declared quite chirpily and cheerfully that she received it in sex play, and that she liked it. Which she did. Extreme little girl.

I used to walk out of our house and go find her on the street and grab her by the wrist, telling her it was time to fuck now. She was so proud to be taken like that, and would smile and wave bye bye to her family and friends.

Some people really enjoy being physically dominated, and have no social qualms about it.

As soon as it becomes clear to me that I have no sexual chemistry with a woman, that I have not a thing to gain by chivalry, I treat her like a man. With no ruth.

You seem to handle a lack of ruth pretty well. You got some balls, which is good. I still think you are a dangerous and deluded gold digger who will never know how deeply you are lacking in what a man profoundly needs, but hey – that never stopped you. That’s fem-balls, and a man respects balls.

Femx

And if it amused me, I would successfully wrap every male poster here around my finger (not a big hurdle, BTW). Be thankful that I find such a task vulgar.

Is that empty braggadocio? You know, some of us have been played and played. We’ve seen it and then seen it again. It’s funny when a girl thinks she’s playing, and doesn’t know she’s being played. Or politely ignored.

femx

In any case, we all need to understand that what you have to offer and what you can get out of it has no necessary connection in the sexual marketplace.

Kinda, but not quite really.

For instance my homestead GF is dull with words and dull with sex. She doesn’t deserve me. Except that I make sure she pulls her weight in every possible way otherwise. And when I feel an inequality, there is no choice but to pull away. Physically, emotionally, sexually.

You get what snag, true, but then you also get back what you give.

Some people just can’t grasp that latter point.

And who wants to know in what ways they lack?

On my cranky hungover morning afters, and on some blotto night before the morning afters, I rail into my women. Just freaking wail with insults. Does a body good. My girls never have to ask in what ways they don’t stack up.

Nor do they ever lack for lovin confirmations for how they make a man out of me and fill my life with joy.

What makes you a gold digger is your attitude of getting something above your station, and of not paying attention to how exactly you are going to continue to pay and pay and devotedly pay for that something.

If not with traditional hetero romantic sex, some of the time, you’d better come up with something.

S&M is a game. People who only play that game actually believe the roles, and are two dimentional and shallow, and therefore they make the worst dominants or submissives. Boring and bad at it. Shitty fucking.

Obsidian – thanks for the remark about the blog. For a few years I used it as my repository for creative output, but lately I’ve lost interest. A hefty portion of what’s there is mediocre, a good portion is crap, and some of it tickles me each time I read it. It’s like looking at old photos, reareading old blog posts.

I sometimes wonder about the ebbs and surges of creative urges. I think living a chaotic and testosterone ridden life fuels creativity. The domestic live I led the last two years eventually dulled me.

So I moved.

Betti

Female empowerment is at the center of romance. Always.

And so male oppression is dead. Long live male oppression. Feminism is dead. Long live feminism. The war between the sexes is dead. Long live the war.

The arms race is escalating. Exciting times. It’s like we are near a deconstructionist era of amour. I suppose what follows the post modern must be a heavy emphasis on irony. Sounds fine to me. Accept the war, embrace it, use it, and be good at it.

*Has your partner ever dragged you by the hair into the toilet, only to pee on you?
*Do you routinely get peed on?
*Have you ever been pushed around the kitchen floor like a mop, on the love handle of your mans broom stick?
*Has your partner ever snuck in a finger into the stinkpot during sex?
*Does your partner come in your mouth?

All these could be signs that you are a victim of sexual battery. Call our hotline today. A friendly dyke will listen carefully to your concerns, and give you options you need to consider.

Carpet – it’s not just for flooring anymore. It’s what’s for dinner!

“I love you baby”, she repeated. “I know. I like it. That’s a good thing”, he allowed. “Yes, it is”, she agreed, her voice a mix of relief, anxiety, glee, and lament. Her hopeful doe eyes finally lowered, as she let her head find rest on his bare chest.

Default

Ah yes, the almost tame, but not fully house trained Alpha.

I notice that he has not uttered the faithful words “I love you.” Not quite tamed yet.

And the not-quite-tamed male could just as truthfully have said “I love you too, little girl”.

That just would not have been strategic, and he would never do something so crass to someone he was into.

xsplat

lurker

Obsidian, if you fuck a girl right the first time, she will come back for more.

Ya, but, there is no one right way to fuck. And while one girl may want you to pound her so hard the bed moves across the room, the other may prefer a love-me-tender approach. Some like to be on top, some like to be all over the room, and some only on the bottom. While you can read some sexual tells on a first date, and teach her a few new tricks, unless her fucking style matches your own, fucking her right the way she wants to be fucked is hit and miss.

But I usually look at it the other way round. If she doesn’t fuck me right, I might not come back for more.

Then again – I once broke up with a girl because she was a lousy lay. She promised me that she’d do better, if I took her back, and I said “No way. You are hopeless. Some people just can’t fuck” She persisted and I caved, and proceded to make her a little booklet of diagrams of sex positions and techniques. She was a diligent student and eventually became really fun in bed. She’d leave me quivering.

Some women like tongue on clit right away, some can barely stand it to have direct pressure and you have to work them up to it. Every pussy has a personality.

Why not notch it up? I know that some men’s wives hunt fresh pussy for them as tokens of devotion. That kind of devotion is sure to keep a man within a marriage!

DA could offer men to his wife.

By the way, a husband once did exactly that to me, and as I was in a time of need, I graciously accepted. They were very warm hosts. And I liked their kids too.

The problem with whores, is that they tend to make poor Madonnas.

The problem with choosing the chicken salad, is that it tends to make a poor hamburger. Just pick something off the fucking menu and eat it! Didn’t you even notice that you are hungry?

I had a dream last night, in which I introduced to my high-school crowd a particularly trashy and insanely sexy girlfriend. The short, mini-skirted and pantyless sex vixen with the soap-suds brain. The tension was spectacular, and touched all parts of me.

On the one hand, the high school socialites were respectable, kind, open, warm hearted and sincere. On there other, here was this on fire sex vixen.

Hmmm. Let me think on this choice.

The tension in that scene was that the socialites had never met a vixen. It was puzzling to them.

You can’t mix and match though. The vixen was just way too extreme to ever fit into any social scene. And the socialites were way to socialised to ever be extreme.

So, you eat one meal at a time. But you got to choose.

I’m slowly developing a theory of mind regarding trolls. I’m guessing they truly despise themselves. They feel unredeemable. They have a malaise of the soul. They feel not unloved, but unloveable.

Maybe they don’t quite despise themselves – as that would take some sort of conviction, of which they are incapable, as that would take some sort of self-trust, which they can not have, because they despise themselves, but they do feel completely unworthy.

And so, in order to get any kick out of life, these curs try to gain power over those that do feel worthy, that do feel loved.

No matter what it takes, in order to get any sort of upper hand, they aim to make people pissed off.

Because they can’t engage in human ways. Even if they tried. Which may be why they feel so unworthy. Because… THEY REALLY ARE!

I’m guessing trolls have some sort of developmental disability disorder that makes them unable to have empathetic and responsible human interaction that is grounded in a sense of mutual enjoyment and curiosity.

They are broken people. And sometimes, you’ve got to deal with a broken person as a broken person. Not as a real person. As the sociopath should be treated differently than a real person should. Sociopaths are not real people. Trolls are not real people.

They are vampires of the human spirit, forever hungry, forever undead.

Trolls are not people too. They deserve neither pity, nor love, as they can feel inside their heart neither. They deserver masturbation and a huge porn collection, and an xbox. They don’t deserve an internet connection.

What if the same developmental delay that disabled grown-up talk also disabled introspection?

They say that is what happens to the fried brains of those with BPD.

I’m guessing take a pinch of Aspergers, throw in a pinch of BPD, and you’ve got yourself an internet troll.

Either way, YOU are wasting YOUR time trying.

I know about wasting time with people incapable of introspection, as I’ve racked up years worth of dealing with BPD trait rich “people”. One was so insanely developmentally impaired as to occasionally see shit in the air. She needed meds. At that severity, give up all hope of inspiring introspection, ye who enter here.

I keep saying it. Some people are fucked up, and can not be redeemed. Unless by their own will. Which they may or not find in this life.

No, scratch that. A sociopath can not find the will to stop being a sociopath, and even if he did, could not stop being a sociopath.

find your own Implications.

And that’s all I’ve got to say about that.

wrong. Trolls deserve connection to multiplayer rooms with ttheir xboxes. But not www connection.

Correct. While I, on the other hand, deserver a Lawnmower Man style internet hookup.

I’ll be good to ya’ll, and the deserved elite can join me in Lawnmower Man space. The sex will be as sublime and divine as two quasars making out and exploding in unison near a pair of orbiting black holes. Time and space will quiver, inside and outside will lose meaning, and we will blow all sense as we become who we really are – again – united to the unknowable vast timelessness.

Like sex can be.

Oh, and then we can get into some orgies, in Lawnmower Man virtual reality enhanced by silicon enhanced brains hooked up wirelessly to the Over-Net. Some orgies in which we can feel each other, not just seem to feel each other. Empathy that is more than mirror neurons, but wirelessly connected mirror neurons, networked endlessly.

I’ll be there for that internet connection.

The trolls won’t. They don’t deserve it.

Sexual chemistry is more important than great foreplay.

O said:

Chic’s very young and hasn’t had much sexual experience of any sort; for many such Women, the idea of being penetrated by a Man’s dick can be unsettling. It’s not unusual at all.

…So, in conclusion, tagging a Woman like Chic Noir is very easy-lick her up and down for about an hour, and she’ll be begging for you to impale her w/your spear. This has been my experience.

My ex-wife remained this way for years. She’d need a good 1/2 hour of foreplay to enjoy a puny little 1/2 hour of fucking, after which she’d come and lose interest.

What a raise of life satisfaction when my next girlfriend needed no foreplay at all, and would fuck for hours, and come many times until we were both too exhausted to move.

I hear you O, that kissing and pussy licking is important. Or rather, it is one important aspect of sex. I think again about wrestling tactics – if that’s your best move, you’ll do well.

But if fucking is your best move, then you’ll do well with that. And chemistry is also about not just playing to your mates needs, but finding a suitable mate. Not all women can even fuck for more than 30 minutes, not all can come a lot. Hell, not even all of them are into guys.

Sure, with a modestly arousable girl, throw a lot of careful foreplay at her, and you’ll raise her into fits of intense passion. But a very arousable girl can go from 0 to 60 in 30 seconds.

My current girl used to count the ceiling tiles and grab illicit views of her watch when fucking other guys, but now after some training on my dick starts in with her first orgasm in under a minute after penetration. It’s the chemistry of putting a fucker together with a fucker. I rarely lick her or give any foreplay at all.

It’s the girls that go from 0 to 60 in 30 seconds that interest me.

I don’t mind training a girl up. Awakening her sexuality. That’s my specialty.  In fact many girls have told me it was my calling, and that I could make a living at it. But in the end no matter how much you train an athlete, they can’t compete unless they’ve got the genes. And women’s sexuality varies widely and wildly.

Genetic engineering and borg-tech arms race

Ever since I was a kid, I’d get irritated when TV and movie entertainments failed to appreciate physics.  In real life, when Lois Lane falls from the building and Superman catches her, she dies from rapid deceleration. I find entertainment is more entertaining when it is potentially realistic.  Science fiction engages me more than fantasy.

So when discussing our future, I find it more entertaining when the discussion is in line with physical realities.  In today’s physical world, our physics includes the fact that technology is rapidly changing.  Including the physics that bio-tech and borg-tech is getting rapidly more complex enriches discussions with greater realism.

So over at roissy.wordpress.com, I went on a social-capital spending spree, with this hissy fit:

There must be some reason why people are so mule headed about facing the fact of the upcoming changes. Must be too incomprehensible to seem real.  A massive, stroke level failure of imagination is blinding people.

People seem pointedly unaware that race is soon a non-issue. Genetic engineering changes that. Why is that so incomprehensible to people?

The notion of a racial duty to pass down our genes made sense when genes could only be passed down through sex. Times are changing. Soon we’ll be able to pick and choose genes – build babies from the ground up.  Technology is changing too fast to even begin to guess what the next moral crises will be – but it certainly won’t be about a duty to donate sperm directly into a womb.

Pisses me off that people quibble about stuff that is soon to be completely pointless. Without any notion of how pointless. More inane than a duel on a sinking titanic – because at least in that situation you’d be aware that the Titanic was sinking.

Man, you guys can be migraine level boring and obtuse. Get it through your thick skulls. Technology changes everything.  This blog is meant to be my intellectual stimulation, but can be like watching the tards have tard talk.

And let’s not forget that the borg is coming.

You guys too often loose sight that the ship we are sailing on is actually a transformer, and talk as if it’s just smooth sailing straight ahead, like always.  This second guessing of social changes while ignoring that morality doesn’t exist independent of technological changes wears my spirit down.

Someone needs to slap 99% of the people on this blog upside the head. The world you are discussing neglects the enormity of change – as if this were the 1300s and we should expect our kids to live in anything resembling today’s world.

Technology changes everything, and in unforseeable ways.

Race talk that looks ahead more than one generation is irrelevant to me. Because it’s irrelevant.  Duty to procreate is race talk.  Super-kids will soon be genetically created.  They will have massive evolutionary advantages over the normals, that will enable them to out-compete in all fields, including economic, technological and warfare.  Humans will soon also connect through neuro-implanted internets, enabling cliques to start a genetic and cyborg arms race.  In light of these new evolutionary pressures, passing on ones historic genes is as irrelevant as T-rex passing on its genes.  White power is as meaningless as T-rex power.

The future will be changed by tech, in ways we can’t completely predict.  We can predict massive change.  The only thing that could stop extreme and rapid technological growth is war on a scale that shuts down civilization capable of our level of technology.   Either way, it’s extreme change from today.

My attitude of condescension comes from seeing people avoid the obvious. It’s irritating.  When people avoid the obvious, they deserve this attitude.  They earned it.

Qualified it with:

I’m more interested in getting pussy than second guessing the future. I live in the here and now.

I live for now and for pussy. There is no contradiction to facing reality and living for now.

The logical endpoint of including tech into future speculations is to make your mind and lifestyle fluid. Be prepared for anything, and live for today. The logical endpoint is a tomorrow vastly different from a today.

We don’t need to know what will happen tomorrow to prepare as best we can for it, nor do we need to believe in an afterlife to quell our existential angst enough to enjoy a hearty breakfast.

There is no contradiction between living with the facts of death and an unknowable future, and enjoying a pragmatic and engaged present.

And went on to ask:

As of now when we talk of race we talk about parentage, and altering a groups race would be done through cultural mating decisions or eugenics.

• What if it came to pass that the human genome was mapped and understood in full detail, and if each gene could be altered and spliced together in any arrangement? What if genetic engineering could be done on children and adults, through the use of viruses?

• Do you think it reasonable to expect this to happen, within 60 years?

• What traits would you like to have for your children? What color skin would you give them?

• Do you think if such technology became inexpensive and easily available, parents would take advantage of it?

• If you could alter your own genes, such that you would pass on the best possible traits to your potential children, would you do so?

• How would this affect race relations? Would it affect even the concept of race?  Would we get new races?

• If personal genetic engineering does not become widely used, would you expect it to be used by some people?

• Do you think that the super kids would have above average ability to earn money? To compete for other women? To rise to the top levels of social, political, economic, technological, and military power?

• Do you think that the rich parents of kids with genes that enabled them with maximum potential for human fitness and IQ and social skills, and who sent those kids to private schools, would be creating our new overlords?

• What if some of these super-kids formed high-school cliques. What if they purchased not new fangled cell phones, but new brain-wave communication devices?  They’d be a force to reckon with. Perhaps a military force.  Would it be your moral duty to protect your race by keeping up with the military powers of your neighbors? Genetic arms race?

• Do you think a mad scientist might infect the world with a virus that would make all children have IQs above 120, if he could easily do so?

• If you had a little home-brew lab that could whip out viruses to alter the genes of all people, or selected groups, would you create and release such viruses into the wild?  Do you think that other people might?

• What if it became possible to exchange data between people through some sort of wireless virtual reality gizmo? What if that could plug into our neurons, and we didn’t need to wear geeky sunglasses or gloves to use it?

• What if there came to pass a communications technology as revolutionary to the human condition as was the printing press. As was the intertubes. What if people could get their wireless brain implanted intercoms at birth, and would be able to communicate with each other in groups, with great facility – even to have group thinking.

• Do you think it likely that technology will make a huge change to the human condition that you did not foresee? Has that ever happened in the past? Does it happen regularly?

• What if inkjet technology could be used to print out a variety of cells? Would you print out a pterodactyl, and wirelessly connect to its brain, and zoom all around Central Park in New York?

Many of these what-ifs have already come to pass. Many will come to pass, barring the complete breakdown of civilization as we know it.You and I do not, and can not know, our future. It’s unknowable. What we can know is that it will be more different than todays world is different from the world of 200 years ago.  Vastly.

And I’m not just talking about a future Jetsons lifestyle. They are the same as the Flintstones – just 1960s folk.  I’m talking the difference between village coconut grove and new york city high drug use, high socializing, high tech living. Ramped up times X.  And possibly then to the power of Y.

I’m a luddite.  I don’t believe that the singularity is at all likely. Technology will be the death of us. It will increase only enough to wipe us out.  But it will increase at least that far.

If you believe in evolution, and you believe in the inexorable march of technology, you believe that technology will involved in an evolutionary arms race that will radically alter what it means to be human, or kill us all.

Yes, it’s depressing.  At least at first. Truth hurts.

Dating

As an ugly guy, I suggest a holistic approach. Go to a place where your money has more value, and where your social standing has more value.

Compromise in areas that are less important to you, regarding females.

From that place of optimizing your position and focusing on your prime needs and desires, practice your social skills over and over until you are those skills – in a unique and comfortable and intriguing way. Be interesting, even to yourself.

Having good skills in a poor environment is not as advantageous as poor skills in an advantageous environment. Going after a woman in all ways above your station is not as advantageous as going after a woman above some of your station and below other aspects of your station. Know what to choose, and what to give up.

And then being ugly is fuglin fun. You can in some cases do far better than handsome young guys. Providing you can fuck like hell.

Would Lazarus engage with blogs?

I’m bored.  I understand women.  I know how to enhance my options to push my dick inside of them.  I know how to make that seem quite emotionaly relevant, without making one promise.

I know how to tell a muslim that her notion of virginity is paper.  I know how to pull the pants off a surprised girl on the first date.

Ok, so, I know how to find love, and how to get access to what women think is love.

Maybe eventually women will bore me.  They are so simple.  The simplest think they are special.  I’m not special.  No woman, none, ever surprised me.  Drama is not some big surprise.  Was the I Love Lucy show dramatic and surprising?  No – just the same old I Love Lucy boring drama shit, that no real man would care about for more than a few episodes.  Big fucking I Love Lucy Deal.  As if your pussy is gold plated, and all the other 50% of humans with a pussy have copper plated pussys.

50%.  Get it?

Women are starting to bore me.

Update: My life is recently rejuvenated, and women no longer bore me.  Some are special.

The police classes will always war with the artisan-socialist classes.

The 5 basic moral attitudes are:
harm/care
fairness/justice
ingroup/loyalty
authority/respect
purity/sanctity

Not everyone has the innate sense of respect for authority and the sanctity of purity. Conservatives tend to be born with
these. There are genetic reasons for the differences. I can’t find the best articles for this research, but here is one http://edge.org/3rd_culture/haidt07/haidt07_index.html

A google on “genetic basis for morality” comes up with articles that mention that there could be no ultimate moral stance, from an evolutionary or game playing theory point of view.  It’s a game of rock-paper-scissors. If your society has police, but no artists, it will get beat by the society who has rocks and papers and scissors to fight you with.

Another link for the genetic basis of timidity is http://www.newscientist.com/article/dn8337

So it seems germany’s war against the commie-Jews (it was widely believed at the time that Jews were all part of a global communist conspiracy. And many indeed were.) may have been more than just a socialist versus darwinian-conservative war. But a genetic battle of dispositions. You see, the Nazis were swept into power largely as a reaction against the socialist uprising that was frightened many at the time. Many of the leaders of the socialists were Jewish – hence being anti-socialist, meant to many at the time, also being anti-Jewish. The pro-business wanted to sweep out the socialists – same as happened in the Macarthy era in the US, and same as tends to happen from time to time anywhere – socialist versus darwinist social theories come to fight.

They say that if you aren’t a bit socialist when you are you you are young, you have no heart, and that if you aren’t a bit conservative when you are old, you have no brain. I like to put it that if you do not want to change the world when you are 20, you are not paying attention. If you do want to change the wolrd when you are 40, you are not paying attention. In other words, humans can behave co-operatively, at times, but can never be forced to. Otherwise it’s not co-operation, is it? We’ll never agree on what to co-operate on.

And from this articel in the NY Times

The ranking and placement of moral spheres also divides the cultures of liberals and conservatives in the United States. Many bones of contention, like homosexuality, atheism and one-parent families from the right, or racial imbalances, sweatshops and executive pay from the left, reflect different weightings of the spheres.

Twin studies

Saw a show.  Twins are similar.  Real similar.

Differences might be because we are not twins.  The reasons that my bald spot is not a chiral mirror image of yours, might have something to do with genes.  The reasons that distant twins have the same habits might be the same reasons we don’t.  Because we are of different tribes.

Tribes fight, in times of scare-city.  Let’s be prosperous then.

Here is my plan:

Solar radiation is both our problem and cure.  Plant glass on all deserts, and lazer beam up 20% of the energy collected.

Oceans collect heat, and the moon sways what it grips to be more emotionally powerful than a tribe of bloody women.  Harness that harmony of tidal whelm, and put 20% of it into the sky with lazers.

Batteries to use electricity for transport.  Boats limited to move slower and to use wind and wide solar collectors.  Yes, expensive.  Yes, cost for benefit.  Like, we all don’t die kind of benefit.  Like, don’t eat dinner tonight, so that you don’t die next week, kind of benefit.

That’s about  it.  Our ideas have a monumental basis in genes, evolution is based on war, war is based on cooperation, groups can get along and evolve together, in times of plenty, we are facing crisis.  It holds together.

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Oh, another way to stave off a starvation induced war for a while: Women; base your sexual self esteem upon how much sex you are getting.  Not how much you could be getting.  Settle based on that.  Settle for a husband, settle for whoreish ways, whatever.  Don’t leave the bulk of menfolk wanting.  You could live to regret agitated men folk.  All that we do is in search of your one square centimeter.  Bigger or smaller, better or better yet, but that basic place of our Holy rest.

Cynical election prediction.

I predict that the election will again be stolen. There will be some civil unrest as the results will sharply contradict exit poles.

Update:

So glad to be wrong on that one!  Relieved.  Hopeful the insanity level index will start creeping down.

Musical language can be funny

At the end of the Simpsons movie, during the credits, did you pick up hints of Eric Copeland in the music? The interesting thing about that question, to me, is how rich it is. Music is a literature of references. It is a language and therefore rich in histories and background stories. It can be funny. At the end of the Simpsons movie, there were many jokes played out, while the credits roled. The usual ironic jokes of playing off one theme against an unsuspected juxtaposition. The usual rhythmic call-backs to a nearly forgotten out of place concept.

What’s the word for that again? A schism in the conversation, an out of place break. There is a word to connote that – what is that word that means wildly out of context remark? It’s a useful concept to put into a word, as it is useful to humor. You make a comment that doesn’t fit in with the conversation at all. Then later enough that you’ve forgotten the original silliness, make another out of place comment that is a call-back reminder to the first silly. Badabing setup, badababing rhythm. If you can get away with it you can stretch it out for a third, maximum fourth rhythm. There is no final punchline with this sort of humor though – this is just rhythm – silly rhythm – but not the end of the stanza. You’ll laugh because it doesn’t fit in, but you “get it” how it doesn’t fit in.

Music makes jokes the way the Simpsons makes jokes. It’s timing and rhythm, and themes, and juxtaposition and out of place sillyness. It’s remembering old stories, and playing them off of other old stories, and finding tension. Playing themes against each other in entertaining ways needs a Jews understanding of the entertainment industry. That is to say that interwebs of connections require a background steeped in enthusiasm for power and literacy to be able to see. Instead of Jew, I could say Old World European. Or Cuban poetry enthusiast. Or Brazilian music afficionado. Power=evolution, and literacy=knowledge of history. Music plays out the tensions of the times, fights it’s internal wars, and has capacity for humor. I can’t look up in wikipedia the answer to the question what is this song; “da da, da da da da da”. But the phrase is important and historical. All I can do is come up with the name Eric Copeland. But that isn’t the important information. You’ve got to hear the Fanfare to the Common Man, or Hoe-Down to understand his place in history, and if you want to get a kick out of the Simpson’s credits, a background in what came before will deepen what happens next. The notes will become a language that makes jokes.

I’m musically uneducated enough to be uncertain if I’m hearing themes of Copeland or Mussorgsky. To mistake an American 20th century composer for a Russian 19th centry one. Maybe I heard Emerson Lake and Palmer play some themes that the music of the credits of the Simpsons Movie repeated. That’s how music works, and that’s my point. It’s a dialogue of repeated ideas and the new ideas that have a history in them. Music makes statements, that live in historical contexts. Families and groupings and political aliances of similar thoughts. Jarring to learn how off-beat notes resonate with off-beat humor.

Public battles and Britneys

Rome built temples to please the crowds need for the spectacle of Battle.  For their need for Beckam football heroes.

We revere sports heroes, rap stars, movie star icons, and anyone who can stand out and show that they made their mark decisively and finally. Do good driving in a circle in a fast car, and you’re golden. Because the little people need heroes. Because. Oops – do we really want too much introspection about that? We know how much horror the knowledge of the sciences has wreaked upon us. Better to let it rest this time?

Society is built upon … umm, society is constructed out of… umm, society is a system of social roles, that function together, and by nature is striated. We want, and we try to get what we want, and some people get less and some people get more, and we trade favors and try to be the people who get more.  Either by political patronage or by civic duty, the sytem works such that we try to get what we want.  Some guys get all the pussy and money, some girls get all the girls favoring them to get the best guys, and etc. Teenager prom King and Queen business that all primates innately get.  We are after being on top, one way or the other.

I understand that some people don’t think merely in terms of physical sexual tension, and consider that money has other uses. Benefit of family, housing, food. Security. Personally, I think it always comes back down to sex.

I think all social hierarchy is about access to pussy and cock. Sure, food and shelter come into play. But food and shelter are monetized to get access to the important things in life.

Let’s stretch that out a bit. For a man, much importance is placed upon his immediate emotional need for a little whiff of female neck. For a woman, wouldn’t a family feel right, and wouldn’t that family that her family demands fare better in the best possible environment.

Sure, a woman wants smells. But decisions about family and decisions about tonight are like decisions about how much to drink on New Years Eve and how much to drink for the rest of your life.

I’m blathering old ideas, because women socially construct reality against simple ideas that are unfavorable to their power. Women know well the power of social construction, as their gossip can alter the direction of marriages and small communities. Lately, they over estimate the power of social construction, and that pisses of pragmatists who just want to get things done without religious beliefs of some Crowd getting in their way.

The concept of “politically correct” is feminine. Or rather, anti-feminine, as calling shenanigans tends to be an anti-group-think male thing to do. I’m putting things in categories, not to divide, but to invite fresh decisions about categories. It doesn’t have to be the categories of male or female. In or out-group is the primate category we are stuck with – our groups just happen to also divide along gender. Even if we became like the new polar bears and because of carpet protectant accumulating up the fishy food chain grew both sets of genitals, we’d still have the us and them mentality to fuck up all our thoughts and make us categorize everything.

Wait… I’ve got a great story. I was looking at a pie graph today, and on the right hand was the key to the colors, in little sqares. A picture of a red square was beside the printed words of what that portion of the pie represented.  Below that a blue square, and the explanaion.  Then a green square and its representation in the pie. Then yellow, then turquoise, then some kind of purple only graphic designers of uncertain sexual orientation know the name of.  Fuscia?  Here is the punch line. I saw the 3rd small green match up with color large swatch of the pie that was the color turquoise.  I thought the little green square was turquoise, and I SAW turquoise. Even after I realized my mistake, I could look at the green square, and it would turn into turquoise. I could see how associating the little square with a piece of the pie chart would alter what color I perceived. Right in front of my eyes, green became turquoise, because I associated it with something I knew.

You’d think colors are colors.

But the brain doesn’t work that way. Colors are also associations. Every bit of knowledge has a familial history, and exists only in context. Even primary colors exist in dependance.

I could say politics, or philosophy. But in this little essay I’m trying to make things simpler, not richer. Yes, perspective always changes and we have no self that rides our surf board. Except that we do, and it looks a lot like all of our ancestors looked like. We can see our commonality with our ancestors in our actions, and for me I see actions as a world removed from thoughts.

And so we need leaders.  To remind us that green is green.  To remind us that white is “in”, this season.  We gladly pay taxes to the political machine because we identify with the heroes we want to become.  We want a piece of that iconic power, and so trade favors in hope and expectation.  If I believe your story about green being green, maybe I stand a chance in your administration.

P.S. Alcohol plays into this and the above post. Neither would have been conceived or written without it. I’m into bad big bottle number two. The muse is a drunken whore – and don’t get irritated by the deliberate debasement.  She is inconceivable and common and pops up in poop.  So what does that make me? A drunken whore lover, I suppose. I’m not sure which memories will flash before me as I die, as my memories seem divided by substances, and the camps have distinct personalities. The meditative memories can’t be missed – but the drunken ones have more flair. Which self will flash by?  It couldn’t possibly be a cohesive one.

Update: And so we need leaders.  To remind us that green is green.  To remind us that white is “in”, this season.  We gladly pay taxes to the political machine because we identify with the heroes we want to become.  We want a piece of that iconic power, and so trade favors in hope and expectation.  If I believe your story about green being green, maybe I stand a chance in your administration.

That starts out as straight logic, moves into way too dry irony, becomes something we can agree with or that might raise a smile, and in the end bites our own ass.  A sword with two edges is the best humor – it bites our own ass.  It’s an indictement of the root of culture, how we see our world based on our political choices.   Funny because it sucks and we suck, and it’s still true, and we still won’t change.

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I’m leaving the broken stumbles of missing words in the post unedited, as I’d like the reader to appreciate just how fucked up I sometimes am when I write.  And that just like those moments after dreams and before you arise, these drunken times are a temporary harmony with our excited and happy to join us muse.

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And like half asleep laughing fits and other ephemera that has no footing in the seriousness of stature, or which part of what is supposed to gain a proper place in the scheme of things, I have no idea what the muse was up to with the title of this post. Beats me… For me, a Britney is a short hand term for some barely pubescent girl who has no concept of sexuality involving sex. A poser. A Poseur.  Someone who likes to be looked at, but has no interest in giving head or getting deeply and permanently fucked.

So public battles might have related to our groupthink tendancy to battle alongside our alliances, and Britneys might have related to Southern people of the United States, who tend to vote repugnican.  Let’s rename this Group Think and the Arrogance of Being Right.

(And yes, I’m at the service of and only speak the words of Bacchus again.  Our dear Lord, or at least the number one girlfriend, above all others.)

Time for an alcohol holiday.

Moderation can be difficult for a long term drinker.  As few want to die of their own addiction, many long term heavy drinkers just give up and quit.

But some of us are shy, and have a difficult time enjoying being social without the drug.   Much of who we are can barely express itself without our long time companion.  So we try to not let alcoholism follow the path it so often takes.  The path to doom.

My attempts at moderation innevitably lead down a slippery slope, and so then I have to really put on the brakes.   A few times a year it becomes the dry season for a month or two.  My mind will clear up, and I’ll get a lot more work done.

And after a month or two my tolerance will have gone down, and I can feel the drug at a blood rate level that is not so dangerous.  I’ll stand a better chance of keeping my celebrations bound within the times and amounts allowed by moderation.

I’ve known a few alcoholics.  My family has a number of heavy drinkers.  Good people.  It’s difficult to understand that addiction, unless you’ve been at that stage of it.  I’ve evaluated a few other substitute addictions, but despite the physical dangers of booze, that’s the one I trust most.  Exstacy leads to problems with depression, and Valium makes you stupid and heavily addicted.  Another positive with booze is that the morning after a good drunk I’m unstoppably horny.  It’s a risky addiction to try to moderate.  Well, after the monsoon, it’s now the dry season.

Random tips on how to enslave your mate.

Sometimes the drunken ramblings I post here are not much more than fingerpaintings with my own drool.  The last post would likely have been deleted after I let it sit for a week, but some of the comments in it got me thinking.

I’m a bachelor in my forties, and I’ve been in SE Asia for the last seven years or so.  So I’ve run across many of the games people tend to play.  I’ve been the object of game, and I’ve turned the tables and played a few players.  Here are a few magic tricks that I’ve learned for how to steal a persons heart and soul and wrap them around your finger and make them feel that life would have no value without  you in it.

I suppose I should be more sensitive to women’s feelings about how I handle this topic, especially considering how sensitive the subject of patriarchal dominance can be.  But I’m not.  Let the sexes battle.  And if you need a little armament for your next battle, I offer this.

Random Tips for How to Enslave a Woman:

- Do lots of role playing, and give her false memories.  “Remind” her of intense moments of intimacy you shared.  Remind her of how when she was your daughter, she used to come home all excited and  sneek off to the bedroom with you after class.  False memories can be as good as real.

- Do lots of role playing during the heightened emotional times of sex.  I’d like to give explicit examples, but if you haven’t done this kind of thing, it might merely offend to read about role playing games.  Use your imagination and don’t be afraid of sharing degrading roles.  Sharing secret shames can be intensely bonding.  Some women even like to play whore, or daughter.  Intense emotions of bonding can be shared with role play.

- Public (or loud or nearly public) sex.  Nothing says “we are a couple” more than public sex.

- Be really into her, show her lots of affection, be patient and kind and giving, send her random notes of love, and all the usual stuff that comes naturally.

- Run a bit hot and cold.  Push and pull, a tad.  Give her full blast love, and when she reaches out for another dose, back off a bit.  Make her  feel and therefore appreciate what you give her through contrasts.

- Ocassionally remind her of what girls are pursuing you.  Let her see girls giving you the eyeball in public, or randomly mention how some totally hot chick is, or was recently, totally craving to jump your bones.  Only do this if this is true.  If it is, and you can at the same time pull off a confident nonchalance at whatever shit fit emotionally manipulative test she pulls on you, then so much the better.  If she starts packing her bags and runs out the door, don’t chase her much.  Cooly ignore it, and then maybe give her a good long rodgering just before she makes it out the door.  Now you’re game is edging towards not merely being together, but being in control.  Dominance.

- Step up the dominance theme, slowly, as she becomes accustomed to it and begins to enjoy it, as a source and style of loving good feelings.  Own her.  And own her properly.  You can’t force a person to do anything, so if a woman is letting you own her, it’s a mutual game being played.  Play your game right, and win her heart.  Don’t expect her to just hand it to you, confidently and with great trickery ensnare it.  Earn it.

- Show gratitude for all small favors.  Reward behaviours you like, but rarely is it helpful to fight over behaviors you don’t like.  If some line was crossed and you want to punish, make sure that you are prepared – totally and truly prepared – to follow through and leave the relationship if need be.  Don’t threaten.  Be a presence of reassurance and kindness and gratitude, and reward her efforts at kindness towards you.  Ah, now the spider’s web is nearly complete.

- Now that you are central to her good feelings, and you have implanted false memories that reach way back into her past, she’ll start thinking of you as a stable unit with a future.  Notice what roles she plays in maintaining your household, and slowly add on top of your gratitude an element of delighted expectation.  She has her duties.  Whatever they are.  Maybe she likes to make you breakfast, and totally gets off on the pleasure it brings you.  Ok, re-enforce that.  She’s the breakfast maker.  Conversely you might want to be “the drink maker”.  Make it a habit to be the one who supplies her with her favorite cold drink.  Do you have a specialty dish you like to cook?  It’s a good idea to have her build positive associations for how you improve her life – so supply some small specialty, repeatedly.  And teach her to do the same – to take on specialty roles.  Are you the Grill Guy?  Or the Ramen Man?  Maybe you both like to cook, fine – the point is to ritualize some aspects of life, so that it’s easier to acknowledge her place and importance in your life.  She has duties to perform that you rely on, in order to live and enjoy life effectively – she has a place in your life.  You are entwined.  You aren’t just randomly sharing life together, you are each giving specific things that you both need from each other.

- Now that you’ve got your domestic game going on, you can make adjustments for her temperment.  In the role playing you’ve done, which roles get her most excited?  Is she a slave type?  Does she like to dominate?  A switch?  If she’s a submissive, it’s in your better interest to play that up a bit.  Order her around a bit.  She’ll feel more secure and respond well to some domination.  Slave play doesn’t do much for her?  Maybe her thing is to be matronly.  Let her groom your head and fingers – the grooming instinct is still strong in us primates.  I can’t remember the number of times I’ve heard “I love to pick the dandruff from your head”.  Or maybe it’s literature and art and philosophy and lively discussion that turns your woman on.  Add to the richness of her mental life.  Or business play.  Admire and foster her skills.  Or is she a wild flirt?  Disco life can be fun.  Now is the time to notice her styles and specialties, and weave them into your life, seamlessly.   She must feel that she is of you.  No matter what is her thing, find a way that you are integral to how she can express her thing.  Build on it.

- Maintain tension and drama.  A lot of people don’t get this one.  A lot of women totally overdo it.  Stability and security are the death of a sex life, so keep an edge to things. Be slightly unpredictable and be capable of leaving a gaping loss in her life.  I can’t emphasize this enough.  You are not the master unless you are in control.  By now you might have fallen hopelessly in love, and be mutually ensnared.  Fine.  Don’t forget your game though.  Don’t get soft and complacent.  You’ve got to maintain edge – it’s essential to renewing the first day fresh feeling.  And if that feeling is long gone and past, then push things up and right past and over the edge – if you get back together, great.  If not, great.  What’s the point of dull security?  What, are you 95 or something?  Afraid of a lonely future?  If you’ve got game, you won’t be lonely – you can easily ensnare another mate.

- Find your specialties and strengths and play to them.  Are you great in bed?  Funny?  Maybe you are adorably handsome?  A connoisseur of music?  Be the provider in her life for that.  It’s about associations – re-enforce positive associations of any kind to be associated with you.  Ignore your weaknesses, or make fun of them.  I’m a 4, sometimes a 3, but routinely call myself handsome in front of my girls.  Makes them laugh out loud, because in reality I’ve got a beautiful kind of fugly going on.  A face that grows on you, like a bad case of toe fungus.  Loveable in an I-love-a-good-hangover kind of way.  My ugliness becomes irrelevant and even slightly attractive, if addressed with a play to your strengths attitude.

- Now one last thing, and this is the most difficult one of all.  Be ruthlessly honest.  If you aren’t in love anymore, if you want to date other girls, if you find something about her intolerable, or of you are just bored to death of her.  It’s no fun having a slave if you become enslaved to being a slave master.  You’ve got to know yourself – this isn’t a game or a dress rehearsal.  There are times when you’ve got to be the one to lose, and start over.  That makes a man out of you, so do it if you’ve got to do it.  Game is for getting what you want, not for getting what you don’t want.  Know what you want, and only go after that.

Facts be like bees, I be like honey. Or the other way.

I have twitter style newses.  I’ve not yet used twitter.com, but I hear
it is a thought broadcast mechanism.  You can broadcast only in blurbs,
while your blurbs can be heard without limits of direction.  Only limits of
who gives a god damn.

Twitterlry newslies:  I’ve paid the years rent on a well furnished and
electronified four bedroom, two story, two (Asian style) bath, one mango tree,
one balcony, one potted garden terrace house in a neighborhood that in the
mornings is owned by small birds.  Some nights are owned by neighborhood
dogs.  The occasional ten minutes are owned by a local virtuoso singer or
his stand in low amp broadcast that explains how his soul agrees with the
nuances of high powered men.  Twitterly news, and if no one gives me enough
god dam to authenticate my existence… I think the next word was supposed to be
then.  If… then.  I like a non-Hollywood ending better. 
If… 

Who ever predicted what memories would flash at once on their death
fall?  Like in Mad Magazine, I prefer if the main character dies after the
first ten minutes.  Just like that and end.  My style of dramatic
tension – empty and open.  Call it Zen tension.  If…

No resolution required.

.

Got a motorcycle.

.

I’m getting meaner and colder to “my” impedance.  It gives me
right frontal lobe head pain to be this harsh.  My wrists get limp, and I
can’t push the buttons to be the abortionist.  Facts be like stinging bees,
and I be like me, and I’m getting meaner and crueler to “my” live
in.  How harsh must a person be?  Until it feels better to be away
from me rather than near me?  Because much of the time, I want
“my” impedance to be away from me.

Not that I want want to be rude.  Or unforgiving.  Or inhumanly
cold.  Not that I have no memory.  Or sex drive.  Or a sex drive
connected to an embracing rudeness that has for each lover wished to witness her
taken over by another.  Not that.  Not that I don’t care. 

Just that we don’t care.  Spark is we.  I don’t feel spark.

.

A “friend” once asked, what is the theme of this blog. 
Another person who has no nameable relation to me, recently asked me to delete
her personal blog post here, as it was really a personal email, misplaced for
not knowing my current email addresses.

I have no idea what the relationship between those disconnected ideas are,
but I’m guessing dozens of metaphors could cough up.  The theme?  The
theme is finding themes, so I guess there is no theme.  Why I have not yet
honored a privacy desire?  Same reason.  Finding themes is cruel and
public and social and irritating and funny.  Not crossing any lines, but
swerving over them, to be sure.  Blog theme = entertaining shit. 
There goes my right temporal lobe and limp wrists again, complaining about the
sad job of cutting off chicken heads or boiling crabs or lancing genital warts
or desensitising for fun or laughing at retards. 

Finding themes is harsh.  Possibly rewarding.

If you can’t be forthright, you are not even yet a child – not acceptable to the adults table at Christmas Supper.

If it weren’t for the morning blow jobs, the food and liquids on demand, and the slavish attention to the fine details of servitude, this would have been one more final last straw that would be final.

I mean, just how much is unbearable? It’s the little useless lies that irk me the most. The 50% chance of truth value, coupled with the 50% chance of interest value, coupled with the 50% chance of mumble value, coupled with the 50% chance of random stupidity, and I just prefer the silence, or the sound of my own priceless voice. But it’s the lies that make my shoulders and all the nerves in them tense. I refuse to get over that cultural difference.

My culture is superior, because us westerners have souls. When we say something, it is meant to come out of our mouths with some reference to what is at the same time in our hearts, and some coherence to our wider world views, and some thoughtful correspondence to a hard won yet somehow satisfying education. When we say something, there is a WE that says it. Our breath has a different odor than our farts.

So westerners are Superior in this way. We are responsible for the systems of government that have enabled Singapore and Malaysia to handle bureaucracy with an even handed beneficence – the tax collectors create wealth there, through western systems of thought. Responsibility is a western concept. Where else but in the west are diamonds traded with handshakes? Ok, they do things like that in the middle east as well, but mostly in the classes that trade on their reputation. In the west, most people trade on reputation. We have a smaller percentage of underclass outside of acceptable social discourse. We have a smaller percentage of leeches. There is less incest. We lie less. Comparatively, we rarely lie, and rarely expect lies.

Westerners are in some ways culturally superior. And we should be proud of what we should be proud of. Our inner circle is deserving, and we accept only those that are deserving of it, by damn fine reason. It’s inhuman to not be able to be honest, nor to find meaning in it. Children even are better than that. Every culture has puberty rituals – western ones include the ability to be forthright. Damn good on us then. Damn good on us.