The Life and Times of Hipster Racist

Comments, criticism, and hush money welcome.


Kinky Sex Fetish: A Manhattan Murder Mystery

Kinky Sex Fetish: A Manhattan Murder Mystery
Kinky Sex Fetish: A Manhattan Murder Mystery

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

The Slut Power

The Slut Power
The Slut Power

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5



Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

High School Harlots

High School Harlots
High School Harlots

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5

AE911Truth: Experts Speak Out
Zero: An Investigation Into 9/11
9/11: Press For Truth
Hypothesis: The Story of Dr. Steven E. Jones
Architects and Engineers for 9/11 Truth
WTC7 Research
Remember Building 7


We Are The Cock Carousel

LOL it’s like watching the light bulb go on over someone’s head. The manosphere finally gets a clue.


I have to laugh at a lot of the comments on here, especially all of the hate for riders of the Cock Carousel. Seriously, fuck those sluts, right?

Let me explain where I’m coming from. I had a serious case of one-itis in high school, but at the invitation of my friends we started hitting the gym in sophomore year. This was way back in 2000, long before reddit or TRP existed. By senior year I managed to date the girl I had been beta orbiting forever, we had sex, it sucked, she repeatedly lied to me, life moved on. I had a series of casual hookups and one night stand through college, some with strangers, some with acquaintances, the sex was never great (my fault), I probably ended up sleeping with 8 or 9 girls. I had my first serious girlfriend in graduate school, I really learned how to have good sex, then had a really fun hookup at a wedding after I broke up my gf. I knew she was into me, we made some excuse after the reception to end up in a room alone, I initiated, cue 2 hour fuckfest.

Then I met my current girlfriend, a girl 5 years my junior. She had had several longer relationships, several drunken one night stands (I knew one of the guys she had hooked up with, he was nice enough), the sort of numbers I hear constantly disparaged on here.

But here’s the thing: the guys she was hooking up with were just like me. Maybe they were decent guys, but chances are they were mostly into the sex – I had little intention of seriously dating most of the girls I hooked up with. I never really got into pursuing casual sex, it doesn’t fit with how I view myself, so it mostly happened when I was too wasted to care and some girl pursued me. Why was I pursued? I’m reasonably attractive, I swam competitively for 12 summers, I lifted weights, and I was in engineering.

I am the cock carousel pathetic betas bitch about and the cock carousel that so many readers of this sub aspire to become. The fact that you find the same people bitching about the CC while trying to spin plates and fuck bitches just indicates the massive hamster that continues to infect betas as they try to swallow TRP. If you want to sleep with a lot of girls, you want to be the cock carousel. If you want a near-virgin for an LTR then you’d best become a Christian, because virgins are rare and probably undesirable by the time you graduate college. If you’re looking for girls that only had sex within the context of long-term relationships, there are plenty of them, but if they’ve had a few LTRs then they have increasingly refined what they’re looking for, and if you’re reading this sub and bitching about the cock carousel, you’re probably not it.

Hipster Racist Is A Fictional Character

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All stories are fiction, all essays are satirical parody, and all comments are advertisement and promotional material.

So what does this mean? The novel, “The Life And Times of Hipster Racist” is 100% fiction. Here’s an example of how the author writes fiction. Let’s take “The Slut Power” series. It’s based on a few real life events. For instance, the author really did get paid ($500) to create a “modeling website” that was an obvious cover for some sort of prostitution ring. The other parts of the story are taken from a newspaper article from about 2005, there was some sort of “brothel” that was busted that was right around the corner from the author’s apartment, and they had pictures of the guy they arrested – “The Jew” – and some of the girls. “Miss Baltimore” is based on a real life woman the author met briefly who was totally cute and almost certainly some sort of call girl. The author had no sexual contact with her.

The author probably has not had sex with 100 women. It’s probably half that. Mostly in his teens and 20s.

The author started using the handle “Hipster Racist” on the MWIR blog a few years ago, to make jokes about this new racist trend – “hipster racism.” Most of the comments from this handle are sarcasm, snarky, jokes, or purposefully offensive ideas just to see how people react. For instance, the author couldn’t care less about the “issue” of women’s suffrage. But it’s interesting to posit something like “women shouldn’t vote.” The reaction is what’s interesting, the breaking of the taboo is what’s interesting.

The author is white, pro-white, and a 9/11 truther. The author is not Jewish but may have had sex with a few Jewish women now and again. The author is not a member of any organization, political party, an atheist, nor in any way related to any “hate” something or other. The author knows next to nothing about Hitler or the Nazis, but he did read about half of “Mein Kampf” in college but really couldn’t tell you much about it. The author is a big fan of Seinfeld and Curb Your Enthusiasm. The author has read most of Kevin MacDonald’s work and agrees that mainstream Jewish culture in America tends to be virulently anti-white.

The author mostly has a sort of “southern” attitude about blacks. As Hunter Wallace of Occidental Dissent said, we don’t hate blacks, we just recognize that they are different than us.

The author thinks Bob Whitaker’s “Mantra” sums up the White Question best, supports the 14 Words but not the actions of David Lane, and believes MWIR/Aryan Skynet is the “WN 2.0 Espionage Model” that is an effective, long term, logistical plan.

The author is a big fan of Roissy and thinks he’s much funnier than people give him credit for.

The author is in no way connected to the “BDSM community” but may have tied up and spanked a few women in his time.

But seriously, 9/11 was an inside job. They planted some sort of thermite or explosives in World Trade Center Buildings 1, 2, and 7. It’s so obvious I have the question the motives of anyone who says otherwise.

What Would You Do?

So my friend knows this guy that had a few months long torrid affair with this chick three years ago. It included more than one drunken night where no protection was used, he assumed she was on the pill but she wasn’t. Well anyway she starts getting serious with her boyfriend and stops seeing him. But a month or so later she sort of makes some moves to reconnect, but then disappears, deletes his phone number, unfriends him on facebook and cuts off all contact.

Well mutual friends let him know that she had a baby months after she went exclusive with her boyfriend. It could be either of theirs. But the two year old has the eyes and hair of this guy. This chick and her boyfriend seem happy enough and he doesn’t want to screw it up for them. Plus this woman may not speak to him anyway.

What would you do?

High School Harlots 6

So when I was a virgin I had three girls hit on me, and me being a clueless young boy, totally didn’t get it. I mean, there were lying in bed with me, essentially begging me to make a move on them, but for whatever reason I just didn’t get it. I kind of did like these girls, but I was a virgin and not really sexually awakened yet.

So I was in this little rock band and we’re having practice over at the drummers house, and since he lived really far away, we were all spending the night. So I am sleeping on the couch, and his sister – a fucking super hot “10″ if there ever was one – literally comes over to me and lays down on top of me. I found the whole thing kind of embarrassing honestly.

Then there was my very own Eve, a hot little redhead, that offered me the Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil – in the form of blotter acid – which very much blew my mind. We’re sitting on her sofa downstairs and she asks me to stroke her hair. I was like, “what the fuck?” Then she told me I was doing it wrong.

Then there was this red headed girl named Steph (hmm this may be a pattern) that used to sit next to me in class. One day for whatever reason she started drawing on my hand, and then gave me a “hand massage” which actually felt really good. She lived just down the street from me. So she invites me over to her house one day. We are actually lying in bed and I’m not doing anything. I dunno, I thought you weren’t supposed to have sex until you are married, and I thought girls only had sex with guys they really liked.

Well maybe a year later, after I had cashed in my V card and plowed my way through a little harem of high school girls, Steph finds out that I had broken up with my girlfriend so my friend – a totally natural “alpha” that had pussy following him around wherever he went – talks to Steph on the phone and basically tells me, dude she will fuck you if you invite her over. So I did.

It was a disaster. I was tripping my balls off and couldn’t get it up. It’s funny, crazy bitch had an ex that evidently had trouble getting it up sometimes and would tell her it’s her fault for whatever reason, and whenever we would start to have sex, she would always just grab my hard on and smile and say “oh, you’ve never let me down in this department” in a kind of sexy way. Then, once when I was on acid I tried having sex with my girlfriend but nothing, totally limp. LSD just doesn’t mix with sex for me.

So Steph was wearing this perfume that just triggered the wrong thing in my brain. So I’m messing around with her and I just could not get it up. She actually cried. Oh man I felt so bad. It had to be the worst sexual encounter of my life. She had been crushing on me since junior high and her one chance and she felt like she just couldn’t do it. I felt terrible, embarrassed, not really sure what to do.

So then there was this town a few miles north of us that was basically a very wealthy area and all the rich high school girls went there. So I met this girl Debbie from up there. We were sort of doing a 69 but I was just fingering her while she sucked me off. I could fell the little earthquakes coming over and over again. She was really wet and really turned on. So after doing this for a while, I flipped her over and start fucking her doggy style and smacking her ass really fast. She goes crazy moaning. I probably rammed her for 20 minutes non stop, as hard as I could, and she was this tiny little thing probably 5 feet tall and maybe 100 pounds. I just pounded away, dripping with sweat, while she has her head in the pillow just moaning. Fuck it was hot.

Then there were these two little white trash girls that my buddy and I literally just picked up off the street. They were just walking down the road at night and we pull over, offer them a ride. So we drive to my house, these girls get into bed and start showing off essentially. My buddy and I pretty much thought we scored a jackpot. We fuck these girls on my bed right next to each other.

But as far as I can tell, from my own personal ethnological research, it’s the daughters of the upper middle class to lower end wealthy classes that are the absolute sluttiest girls of all. This one girl was like 15, didn’t even have a drivers license but always stole her dad’s SUV, and drove me over to her place where we fucked around for hours while listening to the Cure. It was sweet and romantic really. She was a redhead too. Redheads make me go nuts, always have. I’m a total sucker for them.

The Thankless Task Of Helping the Betas


I hope I’m not too off topic but I had a thought and didn’t want to start a whole thread over it. Men and women often have trouble empathizing with each other because they often inhabit different realities.

Think of sex as water…

Women (especially young women) live in a monsoon. Everywhere they go they are drenched. They are understandably sick of all the rain and puddles.

Men live in a desert. They have to walk miles and climb steep hills just to find a drink.

Women look at men scheming and planning to get a drink of water and they think “how gross and pathetic”. I mean, water is everywhere, why are men so idiotic over something so inconsequential?

And on the other hand, men, with their perpetually parched throats, are unsympathetic to the complaints of soggy women.


I kind of part ways on TRP on this one. It’s true, women tend to be able to get casual sex easier than men, but it’s precisely because they want it less. Especially young men tend to have a much stronger and more immediate sex drive than women their age. So the desert/water analogy works for men, but for women, I’m guessing it’s the quantifiable aspect that don’t relate too, as if sex is a quantity, more water or less water. For them, it’s more like the taste of the water, right?

This is why they are always bitching about “objectification” and our “entitlement to sex” because we talk about sex as fungible – we’ll take it from here, or there. It’s precisely when sex is abstracted, and made fungible, quantifiable, that women can’t relate, cannot empathize, and in fact, feel insulted. They feel dehumanized, because in theory, at least, she thinks you are “reducing” her – and specifically, personally her – to another quantity of water you’re going to drink.

You are writing sex with you, she is reading sex with her. Instead, you just give them a narrative, say, instead of a metaphor, try an allegory. Instead of, “sex is like water” make it “I was so thirsty and imagined this wonderful spring.”


That’s kind of the point. Women are so bombarded with men trying to initiate sex, they’re looking for the best of their selection. Whereas men are not consistently approached by women, so their “standards” may be a lot less.

Back to the water analogy, if you’re dying of thirst in a desert, you don’t care if the next puddle has shit in it – you’ll drink it.


And also where the analogy falls apart. If sex is water, you both want water, right? But she is getting offered more and you are getting offered less. Water is something you both need, and she’s drowning and you’re so desperate you’re willing to drink water with shit in it. This is not a very sexy analogy is it? Plus sex=water is so one dimensional. Is this a gay analogy? Let’s try something different.

How about you’re on fire and she’s the firegirl you want to put it out? She’s got a bunch of fires burning around her and only so much water. She can use a little bit of water on each fire but won’t put them out. Or she can use all her water putting out a big fire in vain. Or she can find a fire just big enough she knows her water can put it out. Of course, she’s not going to do that, she’s a hypergamous firefighter, the point isn’t to actually put out fires, then the fun would end. The point is for her to pour all her water on that one unquenchable fire until it’s almost gone, then throw her body on the coals to smother them, sacrificing herself.

An Unquenchable Fire, that’s going to be my new bodice ripper.

(The economic argument, supply and demand, has been done a million times. It’s better than the water/desert analogy. If we’re trying to figure out why women can’t empathize, an analogy they can’t empathize with won’t work.)


Where does the fire analogy work in accordance to quality? Is a big fire a quality guy?


No, no, no. If you want to talk about supply and demand like sex is a fungible commodity, just make the economic argument.

But we’re talking about women here. Screw arguments, tell a story. How about a tall, handsome fungible commodity broker, brooding in his Manhattan apartment, visions of failed relationships in his past. One day a sexy firelady knocks on the door. “Sir,” she says, “we have a report of smoke coming from this apartment.” “Oh, come right in,” you say. She walks through the door past you, then turns her head back and gazes fleetingly at you, fluttering her eyelashes.

“You know what they say” she says, removing her firefighter’s helmet, loosening her long brunette locks, “where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”


Rereading it, I know what you mean now. So, I have to be a big fire AND be burning something important = an orphanage or Children’s Hospital. It can still work with the water analogy.

Yeah but the orphanage/children’s hospital thing is way better, go with that one.


Inside the Holy Grail of 9/11 Documents

Originally posted on Sheeple: People unable to think for themselves:

A few months ago, after nearly a decade of contentious litigation and with many conspiracy theories spawned, the Pentagon released the Holy Grail of Sept. 11th, 2001, documents: transcripts from the emergency conference calls initiated by the National Military Command Center.

For years, the government insisted that the entire conference was classified because the disclosure of any parts could be combined with existing public information to give adversaries a window into how the military responds during an acute crisis, as well as how the government’s continuity of government programs work. The version eventually released does indeed contain numerous redactions. It also, as we shall see, leaves in several startling revelations. Quite fortunately for historians, the Pentagon’s concerns were correct in a broad sense: there exists enoughinformation already declassified and in the public domain to fill in virtually all of the redactions. What emerges is not flattering to the government…

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