What Is The Purpose of My Blog?

After reading my previous post about resurrecting myself after a 4.5 year absence, you might be wondering: what the hell is this blog even about? What is my purpose in blogging? That’s not an entirely unfounded question.

When I first attempted blogging in 2012, assuming you’d even call my 8 posts an “attempt”, I had aspirations of becoming a game/lifestyle/generic-manosphere blog. But I fizzled out because I realized I didn’t have anything to say. Now I do.

What could I say about game that hadn’t already been said a million times by others with far more experience with women? Back in 2012, I still had a fairly low notch count and was in a committed relationship. Since that relationship ended, my notch count has increased appreciably. Now I finally feel like I have some wisdom to share regarding women.

What could I say about lifestyle? Back in 2012, I was unemployed after graduate school and struggling to find employment. I even had to move back in with my parents in my hometown in the Midwest. That depressing reality doesn’t make good fodder for a lifestyle blog.

I currently have a good, cushy job (at least as far as wage slave jobs go) and am just starting to hit my stride in life. Only now do I actually have the means to travel and have adventures. Only now do I finally feel like I have something to say about developing a lifestyle.

However, game and lifestyle are just two of the things I will be focusing on. I envision my blog as encompassing much, much more.

The primary purpose of my blog is simple: it’s my soapbox for discussing all my passions in life, the place where I can freely discuss anything and everything that appeals to me, and an outlet for chronicling some of my crazy life stories.

Is it possible to adequately and neatly summarize all my passions and interests for maximum SEO purposes? Hell if I know.

Matt Forney breaks down blogging into three tiers:

A tier-3 blog has no purpose and no mission aside from being a place where you can write stuff and other people can read it. What do you write on a tier-3 blog, you might ask?

Anything and everything.

Whenever you get the urge to write, write. It doesn’t matter what, so long as you write. Local politics, your favorite music videos, book reviews, celebrity gossip, the corn content of a pile of shit; if it crosses your mind, blog about it. Fisk some feminists, rant about your co-workers, and generally do what you want, when you want. If you feel like writing a post at three in the morning on a Sunday while drunk off your ass on Twisted Teas, go right ahead.

Once you’ve gathered enough data from the tier-3 blog, you advance to tier-2: a tightly-focused and organized blog. A tier-2 blog has a particular topic of interest and a set schedule of publication. The articles you write for a tier-2 blog are well thought-out and value-add; you don’t simply pick something that’s happening in the news and grouse about it, you write something that will genuinely enlighten people and continue to be relevant months, years after it’s published.

I’d like to establish this blog as being somewhere between Tier 3 and Tier 2. I ostensibly have a Tier 2 purpose and a mission as encapsulated by my tagline: “Musings on Sex, Science, Self-Defense, and Society”. However, like Tier 3, I don’t want to be completely committed to a specific theme. I want to retain the freedom of sometimes being able to deviate and rant about whatever’s on my mind.

But as far as my ostensible purpose, let’s break down what my tagline means:

  • “Musings” is my leeway to post about all of my introspective thoughts and wonder aloud about a topic.
  • “Sex” covers my posts about game and seduction concepts, as well as my wisdom about women. Also any of my crazy sex stories.
  • “Science” covers the fact that I’m a physicist, and I love discussing the inner workings of our strange and vast universe. It’s also the category where I can geek out over new discoveries and technological developments.
  • “Self-Defense” covers my obsession casual interest in firearms, knives, and martial arts, as well as all forms of “forbidden knowledge” such as lock-picking, tactical skills, surveillance techniques, and all the other miscellaneous things you usually see in spy thrillers.
  • “Society” covers my need to talk about culture and politics, especially my distaste for the cancer that is the social justice warrior phenomenon. And because no discussion of society could be complete without comparing and contrasting different cultures, I’ll also be sharing what I’ve learned from my travels around the world.

I’ve limited my tagline to those categories primarily because none of the others have any good alliterations with the letter “S.”

Besides, because everything is technically contained within a society, the latter category is my umbrella term for being able to discuss pretty much anything else.

Many of my other interests can be summarized under the tenets of traditional masculinity: the freedom to speak one’s mind, self-improvement, health & fitness, lifestyle optimization, a red-pill understanding of human behavior, etc. Taking those concepts and applying them to modern-day society, one of my biggest influences in blogging, Roosh, coined the term Neomasculinity. As a man who strives everyday for masculine endeavors, Neomasculinity has formed a major component of my mindset.

Speaking of mindset, Mike Cernovich and Victor Pride have been major influences on me, as well. In fact, their frequent blogging about mindset and having a positive mental attitude, especially Victor Pride’s recent Full Color Godcasts, are the kick in the ass I needed to motivate me to re-start my blog.

The concept of mindset ties neatly into another life-long interest of mine, psychology. I got into science in an attempt to understand the inner workings of the universe, and likewise I’ve been interested in psychology in an attempt to understand how people think and behave. Given the overlap with game and science, psychology and mindset are naturally also topics I’ll be blogging about.

All that pretty much summarizes the “serious” discussions I plan to have with this blog. But like the Joker once said, “Why so serious?” Being all work and no play would be no fun, so I’ll also be blogging my thoughts on non-serious topics, like my favorite movies and vices. As I casually mentioned in my previous post, a lot of my procrastination on writing is due to being distracted by Netflix and video games. I’m not gonna change that much, so of course I’ll still be wasting some time with Netflix and video games. But what I can do differently is to rationalize wasting time by writing about it later! Genius!

Now, if you’ve kept reading this post this far, you’ll have noticed that I’ve put in a lot of time into designing what my blog will become. So you might be wondering, if I’m putting in all this work, then…

What is my end goal in blogging?

Honestly? To make enough money online to become location independent. My dream is to be able to travel the world, have adventures, and make money through writing. I have some ideas for novels and short stories that I will be writing, and I will be tying those into a true Tier-2 blog that I’m currently developing. So you’ll also see posts on my blog revolving around writing in addition to everything else.

I’ve been procrastinating on my dream for far too long now, stupidly thinking that one day I’ll just wake up and my dreams will have come true. But to absolutely nobody’s surprise, nothing is going to happen unless I take action.

So that’s what I’m doing. My first step in taking action is to restart this blog, get to writing, and get some feedback on my writing.

That’s the true purpose of this blog.

A Lonely Resurrection

Four and a half years.

That’s approximately how long ago it was when I first tried the blogging game. I created an account with WordPress and bought myself a nifty little domain name. I even proceeded to write a few articles. Then I abruptly quit.

I don’t have any good reason. Except that writing is hard. And I’m lazy.

But every year, I’ve been renewing my domain name. And every year, I told myself this would be the year I get back to blogging. I even meant it, too. I am a master at lying to myself.

I’m also a master at finding excuses not to write. All I have to do is sit down, open up a text editor, and move my fingers on a keyboard. It should be that easy, right? And yet, in a world where I hear the siren calls of Netflix and video games… well, somehow the work never gets done.

I’ve thought about this blog nearly every day since I quit. I’ve kept a list of ideas that would make great blog posts. I want to get back into writing. No… I need to get back into writing.

If you haven’t been paying attention, there’s a lot of shit going on right now in the world. A lot of shit I want to speak up about, even if I just end up ranting at nobody in particular. I can’t stay silent anymore.

More than that, I’m a damn good writer. Or at least I am when I actually apply myself. It’s a great travesty that I’m not exposing the world to my talents.

I have dreams of making it big and making a living through my writing. My plans have always been to get this blog running, then use the blogging platform to launch my career writing novels and short stories.

But that’s all they’ve been for four and a half years: dreams. Now I look back and wonder, where could I be today if I had actually started then?

Every day I don’t write, I tell myself, that’s okay, there’s always tomorrow. I’ve told myself that for over a thousand yesterdays.

My whole life has revolved around inaction and instant gratification. Forever dreaming and forever procrastinating.

Well, that stops now. There are no more tomorrows. There is only today. No more endless dreaming; it’s time for endless doing.

My New Year’s resolution for 2017 is to return to blogging. And what better way to start a New Year’s resolution than starting it a week early?

Bring on 2017. Let’s get started.

Fat or Curvy… or Have I Been in America Too Long?

Whoah, it’s been over 3 weeks since my last post on here. It’s funny how quickly time can slip by when you’re not blogging. I’m gonna have to remedy that in the future with more frequent posts. But anyway…

Last week, Roosh Tweeted a link to a blog post entitled Fatkini 2012 asking the question “What’s worse… the pictures or the comments?” For those of you too lazy to click the link, here’s a sample of one of the pictures:

All the comments on her post are a constant stream of calling her “gorgeous”, “beautiful”, etc. Essentially all the stereotypical feel-good comments girls give each other and the over-the-top flattery provided by a girl’s beta orbiters. So yeah, the comments are pretty nauseatingly bad no matter who the girl is.

But I truly and honestly don’t understand Roosh’s perspective on these pictures, especially asking if they’re worse than the comments. In theory, I get the whole “holy shit, fat women shouldn’t wear bikinis or even be seen in public” agenda motivating Roosh’s comment, and I certainly don’t hold that against him. My problem is that my mind simply cannot conceive of this girl being considered “fat”.

Yes, I can see where Roosh is coming from, as this girl isn’t exactly small, but that doesn’t necessarily mean she’s fat. This might be a rare, legitimate use of using the words “big-boned” or “curvy” to describe her. I’ve met a few girls before in person who legitimately have a larger-than-average bone structure, and it’s always a little weird meeting a girl the same size as me who isn’t fat.

One tell-tale sign and turn-off I look for in fat chicks is a noticeable jiggly flabbiness in her neck, arms, and thighs, along with significant rolls of fatty flesh in her abdomen protruding over the mons pubis. I don’t see any of those signs in this chick. Also absent are any traces of cellulite or stretch marks. With most fat chicks, I can at least imagine what they’d look like if they lost weight, but not so with this girl. She appears to be healthy to me.

In fact, at the risk of being lumped in with her other commentators, I’d even say I would happily and totally wreck every orifice on this girl. And I wouldn’t even feel the slightest bit of shame afterwards. (Though to be fair, I should admit that when I look at her, all I really see are her HUGE BEWBS. And I really, really like HUGE BEWBS. Also, those big, dick-sucking lips.)

Is there some optical illusion at work? The stripes in the bikini drawing my eyes to see an attractive chick? Is the bikini bottom acting as a corset? The devil magic of Photoshop at work in just the right places? Being too distracted by her HUGE BEWBS?

Or have I simply been in America too long? My brain can’t even conceive of this woman being “fat”, and sex with her would make my dick rock hard. Perhaps I’ve built an immune response to the plethora of fat chicks in this country, that I can’t fully recognize one where others in the Manosphere do. I’d love to hear others’ thoughts on this topic.

But maybe this discussion is completely pointless. After all, isn’t the only thing that really matters is that she decisively passes my boner test?

No Regrets

Yesterday, I went to visit my elderly great aunt in the nursing home. And I’m hoping for her sake, it’s the last time. I haven’t seen her in a few years, and the last time I did, she was healthy and vibrant. But now, she’s weak, frail, bedridden, forced to wear a diaper, barely able to speak, and completely dependent on nurses for her care. It put everything in perspective just how quickly life can change for the worse.

I could be just like that someday (Except I’m planning on finding the nearest cliff to jump off of before reaching that point). And it got me wondering, what will I regret when it’s me on my own deathbed? I want the answer to be “absolutely nothing.” Sure, there’s no way I can do and experience everything possible in life before dying, and I accept that. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try my damnedest.

That means if I see a pretty girl I want to fuck, I will talk to her. That means if I want to meet more people and make more friends, I will go outside more. That means if I want to travel frequently, I will work my ass off to find a way to become location independent. That means if I want to publish a novel someday, I will be writing every day. That means if I want to experience other cultures, I will be studying and learning foreign languages. That means if I want to learn how to fight, I will start practicing a martial art. That means if I want only happiness in my life, I will be cutting out all the negative people and influences surrounding me. That means if I want as much time as possible to do these things, I will work out more and eat right.

Those are just a handful of things on my list of what I want to accomplish and how I want to accomplish them. So when the time comes, I can honestly say, “I regret nothing!”

What about you? What will you regret?

Is Dear Abby Another Sign That Game Has Gone Mainstream?

Yesterday, the University of Man had this post discussing mainstream sources accepting basic tenets of Game. And today, I just stumbled upon a very unlikely one: Dear Abby.

I’ve come to expect the newspaper advice columnists Dear Abby, Annie’s Mailbox, Dear Prudence, etc. as bastions of feminist thought. There are countless examples of them shaming men and chastising them for refusing to “man up”. For example, there’s this recent Annie’s Mailbox column discussed by The Angry Dad where the response insists a dad get checked for ADD because he doesn’t want to work two jobs so his wife can stay at home with their baby. Or this post from Roosh describing a Dear Prudence letter that suggested a man go to counseling for wanting daily sex from his wife.

However, I found one of today’s Dear Abby letters rather interesting. First, here’s the letter (I’ve bolded a few relevant parts):

DEAR ABBY: My friends and I are women in our late 40s and early 50s. Some of us are married, some are single. Individually or as a group we have taken classes, volunteered, gone on cruises, gone to clubs and bars — you name it.

We have noticed that nearly everyone at these activities is either female or with a female as part of a couple. There are loads of single middle-aged women out there joining things and having fun, but there seem to be almost no single middle-aged men. Friends in various parts of the country report the same thing.

Where do the single men go? They rarely go out alone or with a male buddy. Our running joke is they’re all home watching bad cable TV. Middle-aged guys must be there somewhere, but where? You’d think that if they wanted to meet women, they’d go where women are, but we rarely see them. Can you solve this mystery for us? — WHERE THE BOYS AREN’T, NORTHERN WYOMING

When I first read this, I laughed at the middle-aged women not understanding the concept that men, no matter what age they are, don’t want middle-aged women, so it’s no surprise that the woman who wrote the letter can’t find them and rarely see them. I was expecting Abby to have a whole response shaming these men, calling them emotionally immature or somesuch for not wanting to settle for these old hags, and I even began planning today’s blog post as a response to it. But then her response completely surprised me:

DEAR WHERE THE BOYS AREN’T: Part of your problem may be that most of the males in your age group are already married. I don’t recommend looking for eligible men in clubs and bars because the ones who go there are usually looking for younger women

She just flat out tells the truth about male nature to these women, that most men are seeking younger women. No shaming, no chastising. Just flat out stating an objective fact, like saying the sky is blue. She just tells these women that for men who do want to meet women, they ARE going where women are. Where the young women are, that is.

There’s really nothing to respond to in this Dear Abby column. The rest of her response that I didn’t post is completely reasonable advice for a single, middle-aged woman looking to meet a man. I just wanted to write my own post about it because I was so surprised that such a mainstream column as Dear Abby would accept and state as fact the truth that men want younger women.

If basic tenets of Game are becoming this mainstream, maybe the Manosphere is winning after all.


I went out for a short bike ride yesterday just after it finished raining around 5 p.m., where I discovered a double rainbow had formed on the eastern horizon. One of the rainbows made a beautiful full arc across the city. I raced to the nearest parking garage where I could get a better view from 11 stories up and take some pictures. Watching the colorful arcs in the sky put me in a rather introspective mood, and I wanted to share my thoughts.

The first thing I noticed was that nobody else had stopped to watch the rainbows. Nobody else cared. As it was just after 5, I could see from my vantage point the throng of people getting out of their jobs and scurrying back to their cars. I was the only one who had stopped to take the time to indulge in this instance of natural beauty. Even the people getting into their cars next to me on top of the parking garage couldn’t afford spending the time to watch the rainbows. Where did everyone else need to be in such a hurry at this time of the evening that they couldn’t just take 5 minutes to appreciate an awesome moment of nature?

We’re all so caught up in our lives and routines that just taking a moment to enjoy something as simple as a rainbow seems like a great burden to bear. My own life is so busy and hectic with writing, reading, chasing tail, working out, building this blog, occasionally doing my real job, etc., that I found it refreshing to take out a few minutes from my day to just enjoy something simple and beautiful.

Most of you are probably thinking it’s incredibly silly to get so excited about a rainbow. But, when was the last time you truly took the time to watch and enjoy one?

‘The world ain’t all sunshine and rainbows. It’s a very mean and nasty place and I don’t care how tough you are it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it.’
~ Rocky Balboa

You Breed ‘Em, You Feed ‘Em

I hate children. Or at least other people’s children. I suppose I would love my own, if I had any (at least none I know about), and I plan on keeping it that way. Whether it’s a crying baby on an airplane, parents shitting all over my NewsFeed with inane pictures of their shitty kids, or the little bastards hogging the playground equipment when I’m drunk, I just thoroughly despise those little drains on society’s resources.

But what I absolutely hate the most is being forced to support other people’s kids with my tax dollars, along with their parents who find it acceptable to indiscriminately pump out their little bastard spawn and collect their welfare checks and other government assistance. Here’s one such story that caught my attention:

I firmly believe that if you can’t support your own children, you shouldn’t have them. And if you ignore that and have them anyway, then I don’t care if they’re starving and have nowhere to live. I, and the rest of society, should not be responsible for your mistake. I know the bleeding heart liberals will chime in with something like, “but why should the innocent children suffer?!” To which I respond, because I want their parents’ useless genes weeded out of the gene pool, and because maybe the parents should’ve thought about what kind of life they’d be providing for those children before they pawned them off on the welfare state.

Did the system fail her?

Did you catch this anchor’s question right at the beginning of the video? This is the kind of mentality I’m up against. No, the system didn’t fail her. SHE failed the children when she spread her legs, got knocked up, and didn’t abort FIFTEEN times. Seriously, I have no sympathy for this “mother” or her 15 bastard spawn.

Somebody needs to pay for all my children… Somebody needs to be held accountable, and they need to pay.

Yes, how about you hold yourself accountable and pay for your own damn children. Or your three baby daddies. Society doesn’t owe you a damn thing, especially for your irresponsible procreation. And especially not me or my tax dollars.

It’s this kind of bullshit that lets single mothers run rampant through our society without any consequences. They’re free to get knocked up by the deadbeat badboys that make their vaginas tingle without having to bear any of the burden. It’s time we end this for the future good of society.

A society with a system like this in place is doomed to failure. It’s not a sustainable model. Because you know who builds the bulk of society? Beta provider males. The ones who work hard, long hours in factories or offices to make an honest living and provide for their families. The geeks who develop the software and hardware that went into developing your iPhones and big screen TVs. The nerdy engineers who design the buildings, roads, and bridges you use everyday.

And what do they get for all this work? Long periods of celibacy before finally settling with an aging, 30-something used up wife who pumps out 0-3 kids for him before divorcing him because she got “bored” and taking half his hard-earned income and rarely letting him see those kids. How long before this beta male wises up and learns his hard work is also going to support a dysfunctional society that supports and tolerates women cavorting about with pump-and-dumping cads who show no signs of commitment? As it is, women have no incentive to find a good, honest, stable provider when they know the government will just foot the bill for any “accidents” that happen when they spread for the smooth talking player.

I’m not criticizing just the women, here, either. There’s also this recent story making its way through the headlines:

And you thought Octomom had her hands full—a Tennessee man who has fathered 30 children is asking the courts for a break on child support.

Desmond Hatchett, 33, of Knoxville has children with 11 different women, reports WREG-TV.

The state already takes half his paycheck and divides it up, which doesn’t amount to much when Hatchett is making only minimum wage. Some of the moms receive as little as $1.49 a month. The oldest child is 14 years old.

Hatchett explains how he reached such a critical mass: He had four kids in the same year. Twice.

Back in 2009 when Hatchett was in court to answer charges that many of the mothers were not receiving child support, he had 21 children. At the time, he said he was not going to father any more kids, but he ended up having nine more in the past three years.

The state cannot order Hatchett to stop making babies. He hasn’t broken any laws, according to the report.

This guy is just as bad as his 11 baby mammas. In fact, I find this guy so reprehensible that I support the state garnishing his wages for child support. This goes far beyond the normal cases of beta males being divorce raped, or even a player being forced to pay hefty child support for a one night accident that the girl won’t abort. By the time you’ve fathered 30 kids, you damn well know it’s no longer just an accident.

And we all know none of those 30 kids will grow up to be the next Einstein, Shakespeare, or Mozart. We all know they’re going to grow up to be 30 more deadbeat drains on society’s resources who perpetuate the same cycle. Though this is one prediction where I wouldn’t mind being wrong.

I swear, sometimes I wish there were IQ requirements before people were allowed to procreate. But the first, minimal thing we can do is to STOP REWARDING THIS BEHAVIOR. Most of us agree and argue that government should stay out of people’s private sex lives, and I’m taking that further to argue that government should stay out of the failed aftermath, too. Without this safety net in place, most girls would never allow themselves to be impregnated by these idiot losers. And that means the gene pool would be a much nicer place to swim.

The government should stop providing incentives for careless people to have kids when they can’t afford them. And if that means having a few babies starve to death for the greater good, so be it.