Friday Night Fragments #30


First on the menu tonight, we have the above image (courtesy of iparallax) that shows the US population density in 1990 by representing population clusters as topography (more people per square mile means a bigger hill). Granted, it would be nice to see such a representation for more recent census data, but it does drive home some fairly salient points, especially with the right interpretation.

I personally find the most striking feature to be the massive spike that represents the New York – DC axis. That is a lot of people in a lot less space. Is it any wonder that such an area grew to view itself as different than the rest of the country? And as difference always breeds a sense of self-important superiority, is it any wonder that there is nothing less than a cultural clash between the powerful and the overpowered?

Like I said, I would be very keen on seeing this sort of map with today’s numbers.

Social Matter asks “Why not weaponize the expats?“, a question to which I loudly answer “YES!”

Well, weaponize is not quite the right word to describe what I mean, but it does hit at something essential. I do support the idea of allowing your more adventurous citizens to travel and work abroad and making their own fortunes while also engaging in national interests on behalf of their patron states. Once that was called “colonialism”. You even had softer versions of this with Letters of Marque and privateers and semi-national East India Companies.

Not all forms of this strategy are necessarily colonial in nature. However, even those that are offer interesting opportunities going forward, especially if there was an entity willing and able to co-ordinate some form of communication among the disparate enclaves being set up across the world.

What is nature of the web of relationships that exists among expats, private military contractors, the idea of gentrification, the rebalancing of the global world order, 4GW, and the revival of corporations like the East India Company of old?

There’s a lot of stuff that I’ve had sitting at the back of my mind that has been slowly coming together in recent days. More posts on this sort of subject are likely coming in the not-to-distant future.

Steve Sailor is consistently top-notch, but earlier this week he put out a piece that was at once savage and beautiful. In it, he discusses a recent college application essay in which the writer talks of how all her life she has been oppressed by “the Daves”. He never asks if it was ghostwritten by someone else, but he does imply it as a hypothetical scenario. It’s artfully done, and yet, completely brutal.

Do I think it’s plausible? Of course. However, I’m willing to be a tad more open to the idea that maybe, just maybe, this girl wrote the essay herself. College application essays have a tendency to come together fairly well in the end, especially given the numerous and copious revision they tend to go through. Even now, my essay from way back when is still one of the best things I’ve ever written (and I’ve become a far better writer in the years and years since I wrote it).

But of course, nothing good comes of being overly charitable, and the possibility is always out there that this essay, which so masterfully played the system, was indeed written by someone who makes their living playing the system.

One of the things that comes with the the territory of blogging is that the blog takes on an identity of its own after a while. It’s not quite “you” sitting out there in all the text, but a blog version of you. This dynamic comes into play even more when doing such things with a certain veneer of pseudonymity. The two different identities are very much two different things, and one of the only ways to keep things straight is to compartmentalize things. This is, obviously, going to be more or less difficult depending on how much the identities differ. Part of the process of compartmentalization involves the playing up of certain characteristics and the downplaying of others when switching between identities, a move that further reinforces the need for such compartmentalization. The system reinforces itself.

You don’t have to do this, of course, but it’s so easy to slip into the habit. When separating identities, it helps if they have at least some differences between them, after all.

You could, for instance, tell only the truth about yourself in your blog, regardless of how anonymous you wish to be. You could also mix lies in with truth. You could tell only lies, but claim it to be the truth. You could mix in truth with lies and let it slip that you are doing this, so none know what is truth and nine know what is illusion. There is no end to the madness that you can unleash when you decide what to do and what to say and what to make other people think of you.

Life at its most interesting is a wilderness of mirrors.

People are going to project themselves onto you anyway. Why not give them more to cling to? The honest ones will always see in you truth and the liars will always assume that honeyed words mask bitter realities and those who speak neither truth nor lies will always see only possibilities. It is tempting to encourage such beliefs and sing the siren song of imagination and illusion.

Ah, but that is not why we write now, is it? We do not write to make people feel, but to make them think. We mean to lay out new foundations for order and understanding, not to cast illusions to feed our egos or the egos of others. It is not for pleasure that we write, though it may give us pleasure indeed, but for something greater, something more, even if we do no know quite what it is.

So let us think. Is there order from illusion? What of illusion from order? What a tangled web indeed.

I don’t know the answer.


Friday Night Fragments #29

This didn’t make the last edition of the fragments, so it gets top billing this time around (h/t Nick Land).

How the DEA took a young man’s life savings without ever charging him with a crime

Quite an article. Give it a read.

I find it hard to get outraged at this sort of thing anymore. Perhaps it’s because I’m a bit desensitized. Perhaps it’s because I don’t find it surprising.

Instead of getting upset, what I did instead was recall a recent post by Vulture of Critique that I think puts things in (chilling) perspective.

The United States still has some very good things going for it, but damn, does it have some problems.

Important things are happening behind the scenes. This is an announcement that is not to be neglected.

Neoreaction is now under formal management.

Aesthetics Week may be officially over, but every week is Aesthetics Week in Neoreaction. One of the finest aesthetic experiences that exists is stumbling upon a quiet coffee shop and enjoying a surprisingly good cup of coffee. Yet, there is something very interesting I’ve noticed in my perpetual quest to find good coffee shops.

You see, much of the urban hipster aesthetic is generally terrible. Bad haircuts on dyed hair falling above ears with big gauges in them is a terrible look, especially when accompanied by a face covered in piercings. Unkempt beards and “man-buns” matched with shirts of flannel. Wool scarves, horn-rimmed glasses, and the omnipresent and eternally obnoxious beanie cap. There is almost no context in which it isn’t utterly unpleasant to see these things.


Yet, one of the best sights that can greet you when you walk into a new coffee shop for the first time is the sight of several of these ridiculously-attired humans running the place. Much as you might hate the thought of being caught dead in an establishment owned, operated, and decorated by a bunch of wankers who look like they should be shipped back to Portland, you’re always sure to get a damn fine cup of coffee.

I wish I knew why this was. Perhaps it’s the weird focus — which is either hipster or just millennial, though I can’t tell which — on this idea of food and drink being an “artisanal” experience. This is the “hipsters make good coffee” theory.

Perhaps hipsters are more likely to seek out quaint little coffeehouses with really good coffee, frequenting them and/or working at them. This is the “hipsters find good coffee” theory.

Further data on this matter would be a welcome gift.

A hipster aesthetic is one of the best indicators of good quality coffee. That said, it is not the best. What you want to look for if you want coffee that is even better than hipster coffee (or if you just don’t like hipsters) is a wizened old European man — preferably Italian — with a thick accent and wrinkled, knobbly hands and eyes that have seen far too much in their time on this earth. That is the type of man you want to see standing behind the counter, because that man is going to know how to make the best cup of coffee you will ever have in your entire life.

Now that’s an aesthetically pleasing experience.

And hey, because aesthetics:

blonde and blackAny coffee shop filled with women like this, of course, is an aesthetically pleasing experience.

Oh, and this is going to be the last piece of “aesthetics” for the next few posts. Find your own soft-core porn next week, you savages.

Soundbite to fuck with the “well-intentioned”:

You don’t get progress without oppression. If you define progress as the rolling back of oppression, you’re going to have a bad time.

Fair warning: I’ve not yet had occasion to use this. Results are unknown. Use at your own risk as necessary to satiate your thirst for sadistic flippant entertainment.

Isegoria had a very interesting post this week (it always has great stuff, but this particular piece resonated with me) about the use of unarmed combat in war and the degree to which having a weapon matters in a fight. Spoiler alert: movies lie, just the SJWs and the media (ah, but I repeat myself).

Also, the article it linked to was even more involving and engaging. Give that a read as well.

Last week, I briefly discussed the film Cocktail. One of the things I mentioned was that the first half of the film was filled with snappy dialogue and solid one-liners. What I didn’t do was drop a drinking-related line that I’ve used before to good-heartedly bust on my buddies when engaging in what I consider to be a violation of serious drinking etiquette.

Chasers are for women and children.

That’s a Donovan Greene original that has never failed to get a great reception. Whip that out next time you’re behaving badly and think of me as you do it.

The exception, of course, is if your buddy is chasing their alcohol with more alcohol…

jon-hamm-don-draper-on-mad-men-perfect-time-for-drinking…in which case you should stop making fun of them and start wondering if maybe they have a drinking problem.

Stay safe this weekend, and don’t drink too much, even if you’re in a hipster coffee house with the best espresso for miles.

Friday Night Fragments #28

I was street harassed the other day.

Or, maybe not. I didn’t think it was harassment. Maybe it was, though. I probably would have viewed it that way had had I been a SJW or a radical feminist or maybe just a tiny, little woman.

I was walking down the street and someone in a car slowed down, yelled “Pork chops and penis!” and drove off.

Yeah, that was it. I didn’t quite see who was inside. Looked like a guy I knew. Might have been a friend of mine. I couldn’t quite tell. It doesn’t really matter. And do you know what I did?

I laughed. I laughed and kept walking. Then I went to Subway and ate a fucking sandwich.

I did not feel threatened. I did not feel unsafe. I thought it was amusing and my instinct was completely the opposite of letting it affect me. What I did instead was to keep doing exactly what I had been doing in the first place (though I did spend a few seconds imagining how I might have reacted had I been a Jewish lesbian feminist who hasn’t gotten laid in 3 years…I didn’t succeed but I did get yet another laugh out of it).

So now, in solidarity with my harassed feminist brethren, I say this:

Grow the fuck up.

 Next up, we have a documentary:

I recommend watching the whole thing. I really do. Do you want to know why?

Because it gives an insight into what a society that believes in itself looks like. That is a society that truly, truly believes that it is capable of everything, and is spurred on by that belief to such a degree that it actually fulfills it.

Look at this painting:

Retribution - Edward ArmitageThere’s not an artist alive today who would unironically depict the modern United States in such a fashion. Not even the most delusional neoconservative would think to do it. We don’t believe in ourselves as a society anymore. We have nowhere near the faith in this country as the Victorians had in 19th Century Britain. When was the last time we had anywhere near it? I wish I knew. At no point after 9/11 did we ever feel that way.

Perhaps it was the ’80s. Perhaps it was the ’60s. The race to the first moon landing shows a certain degree of national self-confidence.

When did the US give up on itself?

I don’t know.

How would we know if it stopped giving up on itself?

It could take one of many different forms. Come to think of it, it would be like sexuality: expressed in everything that you do. Here is one example. It’s not that hard to find others once you know what to look for: 1) a belief in building and/or celebrating the future, instead of fearing it, worrying about it, or clinging to the past and/or 2) seeking out hard and difficult challenges, not wasting strength and ability on tearing itself apart.

A living being seeks above else to discharge it’s strength, but a dying being seeks to attenuate the degree to which it is losing it.

You will sometimes hear from feminist types that breasts are not sexual objects and we shouldn’t objectify them or sexualize them (you’ll note that they are never all that clear as to what they actually mean by those words). Putting aside the rampant female projection in how sexuality should work AND treating this as dialectic and not the rhetoric that it actually is, does this make any sense?

No. Breasts are secondary sex characteristics. For the purpose of analogy, it makes a good deal of sense to treat them as co-equivalent to male muscles. Neither exist for the purpose of enabling sexual arousal, but as indicators of fertility and virility, they help to facilitate attraction and increase the chances of engaging in the sexual act.

Taking this one step further, there is a very important conclusion to draw from this. The teleology of a particular thing is not the only reason to do or to be of a certain thing. Understanding the teleology of a thing is necessary for understanding it, but on its own, a teleological view is not a comprehensive enough paradigm by which to fully grasp all that needs to be understood to fully understand a particular thing.

Bear in mind that great law (one of Legionnaire’s Laws?) of human behavior: the unintended consequences of an action are often of greater consequences than the intended ones. This is true of human actions, and it is also true of teleology.

Heartiste had a recent post that took a look at the following scene and recommended the movie it came from, Cocktail.

Well it definitely made me curious, in that I figured I had to watch this movie. So I did.

Can I recommend it? I want to. I really want to. I really, really do. But I can’t, at least not unconditionally.

The first half of the film is Tom Cruise and Bryan Brown drinking, wise-cracking, and being bros. That part is great. After that it devolves into inane, namby-pamby, pansy love drama. Don’t watch the second half.

Great moments from the first half:

“The waitresses hate me.”

“You wait until you’ve given them crabs. Then they’ll hate you”

That’s just great.

“Beer is for breakfast around here. Drink or be gone.”

 THAT brings me back to my frat boy days.

I don’t care how liberated this world becomes – a man will always be judged by the amount of alcohol he can consume – and a woman will be impressed, whether she likes it or not.

There was a time when I would have believed the first half of this, but not the latter. Now, I know it for a fact that the entirety of this statement is true.

A man will always be judged, full stop. A person will always be judged, full stop. You will always be judged for everything you do for every second you are doing it. Once you realize that, life gets exponentially more fun.

The Peacock and the Raven

“You’re not the kind of person I would normally be attracted to. I mean, you’re a little full of yourself.”

“More than a little.”

“And you’re also not my usual type. You’re not as tall, not as rugged. You’re not as built, not as athletic. I usually go for guys who are more aggressive…”


“…But I still think you’d be really good in bed.”

The above, as always, comes from a recent conversation.

They say that everything in life is about sex, except sex, which is about power. It would make life a tad less contentious if everyone could agree on who said it first, but I suppose not everyone is capable of doing a quick Google search to see that it was Oscar Wilde, not Frank Underwood, who penned the original quote.

Millennials, am I right?

My dinner companion that evening was, sadly, not Oscar Wilde. Indeed, he was quite a bit less talented, though no less gay. He was also far less flamboyant, but I think this sprung merely from his utter inability to be anything more than mildly interesting or unconventional.

Decent chap, though. Worth heading down with to the local pub with for drinks and burgers. Honest chap. Authentic one. You know the type. One of those people who wouldn’t know how to be dishonest even if he tried. That was probably why, without even trying, I soon had him admitting that he would totally have sex with me if I was interested in that sort of thing.

People will always trip over themselves to spill their guts to you. It’s kind of funny, really. By the way, if you ever want to ensure that your secrets are safe, cultivate a reputation as an honest and open person. Only the very clever will ever suspect anything.

There’s a certain type of person who believes it to be the height of good conversation to share exactly what they think of you and then have you do the same for them. I can’t say I’ve understood this urge. I’ve never exactly been all that interested in what people think of me. I’ve always placed far greater weight on how they actually treat me.  Besides, people will always let you know what they think of you. They just rarely say it. If you have to ask someone directly what they think of you, all that you’re doing is admitting that 1) You’re vain and 2) you lack the ability to read their body, face, tone, choice of words, little tics, reflexes, and all the other subtle ways they reveal themselves.

But as always, I digress. Back to sex.

Homosexuality is interesting from an intellectual point of view because it often manifests itself as a sort of reductio ad absurdum of male sexual instincts (here is where I will give a hopefully unnecessary reminder that this blog has always operated under Glanton’s Law).

High emphasis on physical appearance. Strong drive for casual sex. A not infrequent tendency to view anyone and everyone within your target group as a potential sexual partner, without necessarily taking into account their sexual orientation.

My friend even seemed confused by the idea that you could be sexually attracted to someone for reasons other than their bodies. Needless to say, it was an amusing reaction from someone who had just admitted to me that he wanted to have sex with me because of my personality.

It’s always amusing to stumble upon the limits of someone’s self-awareness.

The human psyche is layers upon layers upon layers upon layers. Most people have no idea how deep they really go. That doesn’t mean they have all that many layers, though. Most people don’t. They just aren’t good at diving deep.

What was I talking about? Oh yes, sex. How amusing that I am so easily distracted by the thought of it, and yet trying to keep a blog post about it on track is so difficult.

Is this really about sex, though?

Is anything I ever write really about what I say it is?


Interesting documentary. I recommend watching the whole thing if you have time. Here’s a choice quote worth digging into:

“For the most part, males display, females choose”.

For the most part. Is this true of humans? Not usually. Usually, human females are the ones adorning themselves in order to appear more attractive to the male of the species. The equation, however, cuts both ways when it comes to certain markers of status, such as muscles and material demonstrations of wealth and power. Display status markers, observe as females choose you by giving you the opportunity to initiate the mating dance. Everything really is better when you’re high status.

The best part about this documentary, however, is the bit when it tosses out the idea that certain types of sexual selection can lead to extinction of the species when the females get too invested in choosing attributes that are harmful for long-term survival. This is amusing at first, and then, like a bad aftertaste, it hits you that there’s no reason why humans would be exempt from this. The chills set in when examples of this, both historical and contemporary, start to come to mind.

It almost leads one to believe that restricting female mate choices in a system in which fathers and husbands rule over their wives and daughter might have some merit. It also leads one to the conclusion that if patriarchy constitutes a type of social engineering, then clearly not all forms of social engineering are necessarily harmful and/or leftist in nature.

I wish I had some snappy conclusion to finish this off, but I don’t, so let’s go with that old Nietzschean maxim:

The degree and kind of a man’s sexuality reach up into the pinnacle of his spirit.

Beyond Good and Evil, §75

A man’s entire personality is expressed in his sexuality, and a man’s entire sexuality is expressed in his personality. That is probably something worth digging into at a later time.

And hey, because this post was about sexuality, more aesthetics.

sunflower dress

This is a habit that is probably killing any pretense that might still have existed of my being a “respectable” neoreactionary blogger, but it’s too much fun not to whip it out every once in a while.

Friday Night Fragments #27

I got a text on Wednesday night from some I’ve not spoken to in years. I won’t go into details. It’s personal, and I owe them a certain degree of protection. The gist of it, however, was along these lines:

Never told you this, but I’m only alive because of you. I don’t think I ever thanked you.

This was not someone who I always treated well. If anything, I would have thought my behavior would have pushed her over the edge, not pulled her back from the brink. I suppose sometimes, the happy ending endures after all.

Funny how we always find a way to miss so much.

I understand that many college students are made to feel “unsafe” by certain speakers addressing particular subjects.  But although most people like crisp breakfast cereal, there are those that like it as soggy as possible. One would think that there must be a significant fraction of the university market that wants genuinely scary content, a fraction that prefers mega-aggression to microaggression.

I can do that.

Safety Dance“, Gregory Cochran

Meta-aggressions. Might that include trial by combat?

One can only hope. My university experience would have been so much better with a few trials by combat. So much better.

Whimsy aside, I actually do think that there is some degree of truth in this idea. My experience is that there is a particular subset of people who really just want to push the boundaries and see how far they can go.

Wonder what would happen if someone gave them a target and told them to rebel against it? It’s how the system keeps itself going, of course. What might happen if the right jiu-jitsu was applied?

As I mentioned in my last post, It’s Aesthetics week over at Social Matter. There’s been some great stuff put out over the past few days, and rumor has it that there might still be one or two more treats coming our way.

Social Matter is developing well. Very well. I actually find it exciting to see how it’s growing. I wonder what it will look like next year? I can’t wait to find out.

Former blogger LaidNYC once had a post comparing the Manosphere to a medieval citadel, and argued that the most integral piece, that core bastion to be defended at all costs, was Chateau Heartiste. Supposing we did such an exercise for Neoreaction, it would seem intuitive to argue that Unqualified-Reservations is the crown jewel that needs to be protected.

I would disagree. Moldbug laid the foundations, but the pulsing heart of Neoreaction is not Moldbug. It is Social Matter.

Just for fun, let’s imagine Neoreaction as a literal castle under attack by barbarians.

Mencius Moldbug – Legendary figure said to have founded the castle. Spoken of with great reverence. Some say that he dwells among us still.

Bryce Laliberte – Wandering monk who has long resided in the castle, but who in recent months has ventured off to undergo a spiritual quest. Rumors speak of a potential return.

Nick B. Steves – Jovial story-teller keeping morale high among the troops. His even-keeled manner and his sage optimism have helped to keep sanity among the ranks.

Henry Dampier and SOBL1 – Masters of logistics. With unceasing energy and a frenzied pace of work they have drawn up and set into action plans for rationing the food supply, eliminating potential disease vectors, rotating shifts for guardsmen on the walls, as well as a general order of tactics and fall-back plans

Donovan Greene – Delights himself in setting up all manner of nasty traps and cruel tricks to inflict horror upon the besiegers. Has been causing some consternation among his compatriots by saying things like “Should I set rig this to aim for the eyes or the genitals?”, and “Spike pits may lack grandeur, but they have a certain charm.”

Nick Land – Eccentric wizard living in the labyrinth beneath the castle. Building a doomsday weapon. There is some question as to who he actually plans to use it on.

Michael Laurel – Political strategist and well-regarded oracle. Knew exactly when the castle would be attacked, foresaw the general idea of how it would be attacked, and understood the broader geopolitical significance of the attack. Was kind enough to warn the rest of us so we could be prepared.

Free Northerner – Warrior priest. Has painted the Cross on his shield. Not too happy with some of the defensive counter-siege tactics, but understands their necessity for now.

We’ll end that here for fear of getting too silly.

Since it’s Aesthetics Week, and since the Official Neoreactionary Position is that a woman in red is sexy, let’s end this session of the fragments with some more…ahem…aesthetics.zdYNMjQolheTYJaqIwbgX xfewnd4etenaRr1r4 x6sjefTdiqpgn7 v2bsAq8ut5lp

If you really believe in yourself, and you try really, really hard, then every week can be Aesthetics Week.

Follow the Dark

I found myself walking along an untrod path last night. The time must have been a little after midnight. Naught but a few lonely streetlamps lit up this path, this path so far from all human life save one. As I walked on, I began to wish that the lights would vanish, and that I could fully weave myself into the darkness spreading its wings all around me. As if by magic, the lights began to go out one by one as I walked by them, illuminating the path I had taken with a trail of darkness.

I reached the end of the road. I looked back and saw nothing but the night. I was at peace.

They say humans are a diurnal species. They say we rise with the sun and set with the sun. It certainly makes sense. Poor night vision. Questionable hearing. Fear of the dark. These are not the qualities we would expect of a nocturnal creature.

Haven Monahan over at Social Matter points out that beauty is not solely in the eye of the beholder, but that certain aesthetic preferences are hard-wired in humans, such as a preference for women in red. I too love a woman in red, but it is not just red that elicits a visceral response. It is also with black.

What is black? It is a color of foreboding. It is a color of evil.

Who wears black? Villains. Bad guys. Anti-heros. Misfits who wish to set themselves apart. Would-be succubi and incubi who wish to portray themselves as dark and mysterious.

Would Darth Vader have been as fearsome in a coat of red? Would Dobermans look nearly so menacing if they were bright orange? Why do we not portray vampires or witches in shades of vibrant yellow?

Black is the color of evil because black is the color of night, and humans fear the night.

I’ve long suspected that the implicit bias against blacks that has been found in both whites and blacks at least partly derives from this innate apprehension when confronted with the dark.

Vampires. Hellhounds. Werewolves. The night plays host to all of our fears; a blank canvas upon which to scrawl all the horrors of our imagination. You will note that humans do not project the same madness upon the day. This should tell you much.

A species bred to fear the dark will always choose to walk in the light.

If you wish to make yourself more than just a man, you must learn to embrace the light of the dark.

Friday Night Fragments #26

The weather has finally broken, and the past two weeks have been absolutely gorgeous. Being an exuberant human being who was absolutely fed up with that miserable winter we had (no abominable snowman sightings, but I did some some snowmen that were pretty atrocious), I’ve been spending an exorbitant amount of time in the sun (studying and cramming, sadly, but hey, it’s a start), flirting with the edge of sunburn but pumping myself full of sufficient chemicals (fish oil, green tea, orange juice, dark chocolate) so as to keep me from crossing line and ensure that by the next day any traces of pink are long gone, healed overnight and hardened for the next day.

This warm weather has not only been fantastic for my gin consumption (my liver hasn’t been worked this hard since my time spent as a frat boy), but also for my skin tone. I’ve gone from “new-fallen” snow pale to “sexy golden brown”, which is quite an achievement on my end, as I rarely ever tan, and I am not exactly in a part of the world known for its strong sunshine.

The most interesting effect of all this sun is something quite a bit more visceral, however. I am getting stronger. I can feel it. I’m getting leaner too. I can see it in the mirror. I’ve gone from a creature of the night skulking about in the dark to a lion roaring in the sun. I feel like a fucking animal, and it is exhilarating.

This is the way man was meant to live.

I’ve been bouncing around some thoughts on drug use and personality. It’s a bit rough, but I know there’s a few readers who might get a kick out of it.

Some people are very high-energy and upbeat. They are energetic and optimistic. These people can use massive amounts of depressant-type drugs (alcohol, heroin…etc) and be perfectly fine.

Some people are quite a bit more melancholic and low-key. Not having the same upbeat, peppy, boundless nature, they would suffer stronger effects if consuming the same massive quantities of depressants as the energetic ones, but they also do not suffer nearly the same massive effects if consuming huge quantities of stimulant-type drugs (caffeine, cocaine, amphetamines…etc).

Basically, upbeat and energetic people shouldn’t do cocaine, and depressed, mopey people should stay away from alcohol.

I have no idea how this fits into the metric of addiction, but I suspect that there’s a slightly stronger predisposition to  become addicted to a drug that “balances” you, rather than one that exaggerates your innate characteristics. This is a hardly a suggestion that such addictions do not occur, and in fact, I suspect that these addictions are the most destructive ones, due to the degree to which they precipitate extremity in certain traits.

If this is still a bit abstract, imagine the most energetic, optimistic, indefatigable person you know, and then imagine them doing a bunch of cocaine. Now imagine the most miserable, depressed, browbeaten person you know and envision them shooting up a bunch of heroin. Envisioning them giving in to the calm serenity and slowly slipping away as they surrender to the nothingness is optional (and also quite dark), but primes you excellently to conceive of what I am trying to convey here.

Oh…trigger warning (vivid depiction of suicide)? Oops. Maybe that should have been done beforehand. Think of it as amygdala conditioning?

Everyone is familiar with Conquest’s Law that all organizations end up becoming leftist over time. Is there a law that states that over time all organizations end up being run for the benefit of the leadership? That strikes me as the sort of thing so obvious that there has to be a law, and yet at the same time I could also see how it’s so obvious no one would thing to propose a law for it.

Well, if there is no law, chalk it up as one of Legionnaire’s Laws (I’ve definitely proposed at least one of those before….time to start trawling through my archives and putting them together formerly).

Saturday will play host to both the Kentucky Derby and the long-awaited Mayweather versus Pacquiao boxing match. I can’t in good conscience say that I’m a horse racing fan, as I only pay attention during Triple Crown season, but it’s a fun excuse to drink and carouse with friends. As always, these things are as fun as you make them.

I am also quite a fan of MMA if we’re being honest but I like a good fight so boxing pops up on my radar every once in a while, so I am quite looking forward to the Mayweather/Pacquiao fight. I can’t quite say I feel strongly for either fighter, so I just want to see a big, dramatic spectacle.

I never did feel guilty about treating entertainment as entertainment and allowing it to entertain me.

The denunciation of “sportsball” by the athletically-challenged never fails to come off as pretentious, faux-intellectual signalling (to say nothing of defensive, ego-protecting rationalization hinting at deep physical insecurities). It also overlooks the truth that all of the most fun sports to watch don’t use balls at all (save the balls it takes to make your living fighting people).

How does all this pertain to Neoreaction? Simple. Any proper neoreactionary aesthetic is going to give credence to the type of physical refinement needed to fight and ride (an improper aesthetic would elevate the type of physique needed to type out long screeds on the internet, but I get the sense most NRx types would be more comfortable with something a bit more aspirational).

Neoreaction wants to make a culture? Honor the combat sports.