Tag Archives: fiction

Book Plug: Exit Strategy: Navigating the Decline of the American Empire

I’ve become a huge fan of the Myth of the 20th Century podcasts, and I keep on confusing their names, but have finally established that the main guy calls himself “Adam Smith” after the economist. AS is the guy I can most identify with. He has called himself a “representative of heritage America” – like me. He’s completely solid on race – he’s pro-white – and he’s solid on the Jewish Problem, but without a hint of the Hitler-fetishism that has always turned me off. He is also at the least sympathetic to 9/11 truth and perhaps even a 9/11 truther himself. (Politically, that’s all I ask of anyone.)

On one of the podcasts he mentioned he’s a fan of those “primitive technology” videos on youtube – as am I. The first series I saw was of an Aussie dude who started, literally, by banging two stones together, and after a hundred or so videos had built an entire village complete with houses, workshops, a full set of stone tools, and other such cool stuff. Other channels are by two, I guess, Indonesian? boys making some absolutely amazing stuff out of bamboo, and another with a pretty Asian woman making amazing furniture and out buildings out of bamboo using very primitive hand made tools.

For any American boy with that frontier pioneer blood in his veins, this stuff is catnip. I once knew a guy who taught middle schoolers to write fiction and he showed me a bunch of their work. Half of the stuff was basically fanfiction based on TV shows – all garbage. Maybe 10% of the boys and girls would write honestly creative stories and the top few he showed me were of kids writing what is called in anthropology “origin stories.” This includes “where we came from” (always came from somewhere else, in the distant, mythological past, to where we are now which starts ‘history’) and the invention of agriculture.

In fact, not long after my parents died, my older sister gave me a story I had written when I was about five, that my mother had kept. It was exactly and precisely an “origin story” that included all of those things. It started with my parents dying (which I cribbed from Superman, apparently) and then I discovered how to grow food, make tools, hunt animals, then moved to a village and found a wife. (All of the marriage, tribal stuff cribbed from Sunday school stories from the Old Testament.)

So this Adam Smith guy reminds me of my old college roommate. I was living with my first real girlfriend, and her girlfriend, and my other best friend was my ex-girlfriend. While I loved being surrounded by cute college girls, sometimes the estrogen was just too overpowering, so I could always hang out with my college buddy and we would drink beer, smoke weed, and talk about his major, philosophy. AS reminds me of the kind of guy I could have a beer with and spent a couple of hours discussing everything under the sun. That’s why I blog now, because while my ladyfriend is super-smart, straight-A honor student, and knows a lot of things, she is extremely feminine-minded. I have compared her to Deanna Troi of Star Trek, an “empath” and her emotional intuitions have never been wrong. But her eyes will glaze over when I start discussing technical or analytical topics. Considering I live in a state of, essentially, externally-imposed exile and semi-isolation, I can’t stop blogging because this is about the only place I can get that kind of interaction. The guys I see on a daily basis are mostly blue-collar and few are college educated. Not bad people – although a often surprising number of them are, in fact, ex-cons – and not stupid – although some of them are thick as a brick. But I can’t get the kind of conversation I got back in college or when I was a coke-snorting, model-banging aspiring yuppie on Wall Street.

AS was a typically “libertarian” type that got “red pilled.” Libertarianism – the instinct – is the “default” for American men. At my core, I’m a libertarian, although I never got into the Ayn Rand stuff nor (((Austrian Economics))) – I thought Atlas Shrugged and We The Living were good fiction, but I never identified with the characters at all. They seemed like sociopathic, anti-social ideologues. Ayn Rand Libertopianism is not at all compatible with my “libertarian instincts” and thankfully I was never autistic enough to be fully taken in by Austrian pseudoscience.

So the Myth of the 20th Century guys have a website, The American Sun, and there’s an interesting link to an article by theotherlifenow.com titled “Respectability Is Not Worth It.”

Respectability Is Not Worth It (Reply to SlateStarCodex)

This goes over exactly what I’ve been trying to say about the 20th century era of mass electronic media – radio, TV, cinema – and how the internet has changed all that. Some good points about Joe Rogan being the “Tom Brokaw for everyone who only ever watched Brokaw because there was no producer of daily media who specialized in the unique combination of martial arts, weed, and stand-up comedy.”

I’m not really a fan of Rogan’s podcasts, although I am a HUGE fan of his old show, “News Radio” which was one of the best sitcoms in sitcom history (RIP Phil Hartman.) But Joe Rogan is *MAINSTREAM* now. Rogan’s audience is as big as anyone’s. Once the white Baby Boomers die, FOX news is over and something like the Joe Rogan Internet Network will take its place. FOX tries hard to be “cool” with stuff like Gutfeld, but he’s too much of a GOP shill and a “conservative” for anyone to care. As much as shows like Gutfeld try to be “edgy” they simply cannot stray too far off the conservatard plantation.

Same with Alex Jones, as mentioned in the article. Jones is so big that they have to censor him – he’s now utterly banned from Facebook and Instagram and they are even banning regular people linking to InfoWars.com. I hate Alex Jones precisely because he was instrumental in destroying the mainstream 9/11 Truth movement – I am 99.99% sure, in fact, he was literally paid to do that, in fact. But apparently Alex Jones is quite influential.


Someone smarter than I am needs to come up with a coherent theory of communications networks. There is the pre-history, there is the development of the printing press, mass literacy, the Reformation and the Enlightenment, then the newspapers.

But once the media become electronic things began to shift rapidly. You can actually see significant disruption caused by the telegraph especially militarily and economically. FDR became the Stalin of America because of the radio. Christianity was disenfranchised because of television more than anything.

All of these 20th century mass electronic media networks were centralized and broadcast from one central headquarters to “the masses.” The internet has changed that and the story of the 2000s-now is the attempt (somewhat but not entirely successful) at recentralizing the internet via “social media” – Facebook, Google, and Apple. Even the infrastructure is become re-centralized due to Amazon.

But they haven’t exactly won yet and we have a good opportunity to, if not exactly “take over the internet” to at least carve out our own network, technically and socially, if we put in the work.

Crisis Acting is a Growing Field

Anytime there’s some sort of mass shooting or event people immediately go to youtube to point out flaws in the media narration. Considering how the media literally just makes shit up all the time, you really have to give the conspiracy theorists credit for at least questioning what they see on the TV.

At the Pulse nightclub shooting in Orlando, there were all sorts of theories. One interesting thing about the shooting is that the supposed perp is the not only the son of an obvious CIA asset – his father actually runs a TV show on Afghanistan (i.e., Voice of America) ran for President of Afghanistan, and was even invited to the Hillary Clinton nomination, to sit behind the candidate, mere months after his son supposedly shot up a bunch of Latino LGBTs in the name of ISIS and Allah.

Not only was the TV News coverage of the event outright weird, and in some cases staged – including green screens and hilariously bad acting – it’s just come out that the hospital has decided to “forgive” the medical bills of everyone treated there due to the alleged shootings.

Uh-huh. One assumes actually billing all those hundreds of victims might have just created too much paperwork that might have been subject to a court review. So – no big deal just cancel the bills – not like hospitals are starving for money or anything.

So this crazy guy, Miles W. Mathis, has a lot of weird pseudo-scientific nonsense about math and physics and also some truly bizarre historical conspiracy theories. I can’t buy into 80%, maybe 90% of his stuff.

But here’s an interesting one. It’s been discussed before. It’s historical. But really – what the hell was the whole Manson Family thing? The story never really made sense and the entire thing was literally staged by actors – on an actual movie set – people that had produced, directed, and acted in film after film about Satanic Ritual Sex Murders – until it happened “for real.”

Just like that “radical mosque” that was preaching jihad just spitting distance from the headquarters of the CIA (don’t worry, we were told, the CIA was keeping an eye on them. It didn’t stop a few congregants from showing up fighting ISIS Al Qaeda back in the early 2000s.)

So the Manson thing was the “end of the hippie movement” and the Manson trials were the most famous, most expensive trial in history – complete with photogenic hippie chicks covered on TV every day.

As evidence for that, we find that in April of 1969, one of the lesser and younger (age 15) Manson girls, RuthAnn Morehouse, was arrested and placed in juvenile hall. She was released into the custody of George Spahn, who acted as a foster parent in the eyes of the court. What? RuthAnn’s father Dean was not dead, and Spahn was no relation. Nor was he fit to be a foster parent, being in his 80’s and legally blind. He was not fit to be a foster parent, but he was fit (we suppose) to be her handler. Someone simply arranged for her to be returned to the set, since she was one of the props. Ed Sanders implies that this was a measure of the power Manson had, but Manson had no power in juvenile courts.

and …

For more proof this was all a movie, we can ask, Where did the “Manson family” live? The SPAHN’S MOVIE
RANCH! Wikipedia tells us it was “used for filming generally Western-themed movies and
television programs. With mountainous terrain, boulder-strewn scenery, and an ‘old Western town’ set, Spahn Ranch was a versatile filming site for many scripts.” Hmmm. That’s curious, wouldn’t you say?
The perpetrators were living on a movie set.

We are told that Mr. Spahn allowed the Manson family to move in rent-free in 1968. So nice of
him. Then as now, old ranchers just love young hippies to hang around, smoking dope, shagging each other, and creating big piles of trash. Also convenient for the government is that all the buildings and sets were destroyed by a fire in 1970, preventing anyone from doing any forensic work there.


By this time, the ranch had turned into a huge magnet for runaways and juvenile delinquents from all over the state, and the mainstream story admits that the LA police were well aware of it. And yet we are supposed to believe nothing was done? Reagan sends in the National Guard to bust up college students making speeches and planting trees, but he and the LA police and the state police leave a huge hippie commune in the LA suburbs alone, even while it is allegedly making porn films, acting as a nudist retreat, harboring underage girls, selling drugs, kidnapping schoolgirls, stealing cars, running motorcycle and dune buggy races, threatening neighbors, storing weapons, giving loud all-night parties, fraternizing with biker gangs and Satanists, and so on? We are expected to believe that all these local agencies are going to not only turn a blind eye to the Spahn Ranch, but return an arrested 15-year-old girl to the premises, in the care of Mr. Magoo, I mean George Spahn?

So, Hollywood you a half dozen Satanic Murder Movies, then it happens “for real” on the TV news – starring the same actors, directors, and producers – and plots – as in the half dozen Satanic Baby Murder movies you watched in the 1960s. It’s widely covered in the culture as the “end of the hippie dream” and “discredits” all those supposedly anti-war people.

The whole thing happens under the noses of the LAPD, down the road from the Defense Department’s own Hollywood movie studio, Lookout Mountain.


Really, the question has to be asked – how ridiculous do the stories have to be until even YOU won’t believe it? Why in the world did you ever assume the TV News was “real” anyway?

Remember the Trayvon thing? They admitted to editing the 911 phone calls. Does the TV news always have such a tenuous relationship to the facts?

I swear, if the Project Bluebeam stuff is real – if, let’s say, the TV news one day said that Little Green Men from Mars were invading earth and the UN was sending a delegation or something. You know holographic technology does exist – so you even see something in the sky.

Face it – you wouldn’t question a thing. You’d line up at the processing centers or whatever. You’d get really, really angry at anyone who suggested it was a hoax.

Kinky Sex Fetish: A Manhattan Murder Mystery 14

So I’m standing there, not really believing what I’m seeing. I’m asking random people in the crowd, “what happened” and getting various stories.

But wait, hold on. Fast forward, a few weeks. I’m sitting at my desk. Jimmy comes in. He walks over to my table, and throws down a copy of the New York Post in front of Mark, sitting next to me.

Jimmy says, “look at this shit, can you believe this shit?”

So, you know, Jimmy and Mark are looking at the paper, so I stop pretending to work and look at it.

“Wha?” I kind of do a double take.

“What?” Jimmy asks.

I don’t say anything. It’s not everyday – well none of this shit is the kind of thing that happens “every day.” But it’s not everyday you see a guy you used to work with, bound and gagged, on the front page of a tabloid.

Jimmy looks at me suspiciously. I don’t say shit.

Ok, ok. So two years earlier, in California … there was this waitress named Rebecca…



“I say to you: our wombs have been filled with the children of fornication by those sons of apes and pigs who raped us. Or I could tell you that they have defaced our bodies, spit in our faces, and tore up the little copies of the Qur’an that hung around our necks? By God, we have not passed one night since we have been in prison without one of the apes and pigs jumping down upon us to rip our bodies apart with his overweening lust. Kill us along with them! Destroy us along with them! Don’t leave us here to let them get pleasure from raping us.

Leave their tanks and aircraft outside. Come at us here in the prison. They raped me on one day more than nine times. Can you comprehend? Imagine one of your sisters being raped. Why can’t you all imagine it, as I am your sister. With me are 13 girls, all unmarried. All have been raped before the eyes and ears of everyone. They took our clothes and won’t let us get dressed. As I write this letter one of the girls has committed suicide. She was savagely raped. A soldier hit her on her chest and thigh after raping her. He subjected her to unbelievable torture. She beat her head against the wall of the cell until she died, for she couldn’t take any more.Brothers, I tell you again, fear God! Kill us with them so that we might be at peace. Help! Help! Help!”



SUBJECT: Visit to Project [deleted]

1. On this day the writer spent the day observing experiments with Mr. [deleted] on project [deleted] and in planning next year’s work on the project (Mr. [deleted] has already submitted his proposal to the [deleted]).

2. The general picture of the present status of the project is one of a carefully planned series of five major experiments. Most of the year has been spent in screening and standardizing a large group of subjects (approximately 100) and the months between now and September 1 should yield much data, so that these five experiments should be completed by September 1. The five experiments are: (N stands for the total number of subjects involved in the experiment.)

7. A Very favorable impression was made on the writer by the group. The experimental design of each experiment is very carefully done, and the standards of detail and instrumentation seems to be very high.

Though she didn’t know it, her modeling career was facilitated by Richard Fuisz (pronounced fuse), a former actor, psychiatrist, pediatrician, congressional candidate, whistle-blower, and entrepreneur who declines to comment on a published report that he has intelligence ties. Fuisz, who owned a company that did joint ventures in Moscow, was approached by the then-Soviet ambassador to Washington, Yuri V. Dubinin, to set up a modeling agency to prepare the first waves of Soviet beauties for American commerce (which often meant substantial dental work) and protect them from “adverse influences” and bad publicity like magazine “spreads about their teeth,” Fuisz says.

Gagged Businessman
Gagged Businessman

Trump Thugs sexually humiliate proud Latina Feminist Activist



The humiliation these Trump thugs put Latina Feminist Leftist activists through is barbaric. To them Latina aren’t human. They chain her by the neck like she is an animal.

>law enforcement approaches curvy latina protestor
>officers glance at each other with a grin once they notice her supple breasts peeking out from under her soft shirt
>she glares straight ahead, committed to her cause.
>”you want to cooperate with us or do you want to do this the hard way?”
>so be it
>they handcuff her hands and legs to the van door
>They step back, grinning at her helpless situation
>an officer reaches out and squeezes a breast, saying “you asked for it”
>the other officer begins to rub her ass
>she remains silent, sweating. She can feel her pussy tingle.
>the officers step back and allow the crowd to jeer and laugh at her
>a gruff biker-looking dude steps over and lifts her shirt up, exposing her perfect round breasts.
>her nipples are fully erect but she stares straight ahead and whispers under her breath, “for Bernie…”
>another man pulls down her pants, revealing her sweaty, glistening pussy. It’s already wet from excitement.
>The officers step back from the scene as the large crowd descends on her and begins to molest her every curve, and every tender quivering hole
>she moans as fingers penetrate deep
>more and more people have arrived to watch, and some join in
>the officers walk away as hordes of men, cocks erect, descend upon this helpless handcuffed latina and ravage her mouth, pussy, and asshole
>they continue for hours until she is covered in pussy juice, sweat, and semen, gallons leaking out from every orifice
>her body is quivering from the countless orgasms she’s had
>“for Bernie……” she thinks, as a single tear slides down her face and another steaming load of semen from another total stranger is deposited into the back of her throat.

Kinky Sex Fetish: A Manhattan Murder Mystery 13

Before Tinder, it was Craigslist.

Look – young people from all over the country move to New York to work at prestigious companies for a lot of money. Everyone is working all the time. The gals are not interested in settling down and having babies. The men are focused, lazer like, on making money.

So what do you think horny young 20 somethings do?

They “hook up.”

And back in 2001, it was Craigslist. Craigslist was still virtually unknown outside of a few cities like New York, Chicago, and San Francisco. The only people that used Craigslist were 20 something hipsters from the city. So back then, women would still put up personal ads and sometimes even post a picture. It wasn’t “private” exactly but the audience was small and exclusive.

Her ad said “No Time To Date” and it was a litany of “small town gal in the big city.” Works all the time, never gets to meet guys. Looking for this and that, something. Loves this. Whatever.

Reading between the lines it means “busy career gal, haven’t been laid in months, looking for a man to fuck me silly all weekend then leave me alone.”

For me, this was my bread and butter pretty much, because, hey, I was in the same situation. I did have a girlfriend, but she lived all the way across the country in California and it’s not cheating if you’re in a different state.

Whatever, I never claimed to be a “good person.”

So this was like textbook. We had met for drinks on Wednesday at the dive bar near the towers. Aisha would flirt with me when I had some girl there, to help me out. She was a sweetheart. Aisha wasn’t interested in me at all but she liked me hanging around so she’d help out when she could. So this girl – I don’t remember her name – she’s about 27, a few years older than me. Cute, slender, long hair, dressed real nice. I forgot what she did. We have three drinks, I tell her I’ll walk her to the subway around the corner. She turns to say goodbye so I kiss her, we make plans to meet on Monday, after she gets back from whatever she’s doing on the weekend.

On Monday, god, I could barely concentrate at work. I had half a hard on all day thinking about fucking this girl tonight. At lunch, my bosses, Jimmy and Richie, took me and a few of the guys out to some fancy Thai place at the World Financial Center a few blocks away. Jimmy is bitching and bitching about the power downs. It didn’t make any damn sense. Why would both buildings have all of their power – including emergency power – shut off over the weekend? Everyone had been working late backing up all of the systems, making sure we could bring them back up without any problems. This did not make Jimmy happy at all.

Jimmy was probably 40 something, blonde hair, blue eyes, looked like a grown up boy scout but cursed like a sailor. He actually came across as rather relaxed and informal but the man was responsible for billions of dollars flowing through the company on a daily basis, yet he never broke a sweat. And the power down thing did not please him at all. He had been working on some roll out for months then, all a sudden, without any warning, the building management told everyone they had to prepare for two weekends of power downs, in both towers. “Upgrading the internet” or “fixing the electricity” or something, and that was why Jimmy was bitching about it so much.

Anyway he was a cool guy and it was nice of him to take us peons out for lunch with the big bosses. You know, older guys, they love to show off to the younger men. As I was like 24, just out of college working my first job, I never paid for lunch, or drinks after work. Guys like Jimmy and Richie, they loved to pull out hundred dollar bills and give outrageous tips to the bartenders and waitresses. I suspect both of them were loaded far beyond the kind of money I could imagine.

Of course, for me, 24 year old kid from the suburbs, I was making fucking bank. I’d pull out twenty dollar bills to tip the girls at the bar but it came from the same place honestly.

So we’re all chomping away on $40 entrees while Jimmy and Richie are having a cussing contest talking about the power downs. I’m pretending to pay attention but all I can think about is this chick I’m meeting later that night.


You know, thinking back on it, I figured it was just a regular job. I had pulled my one string to get this job, some kid I knew in college worked for one of the banks and knew Richie and had gotten me an interview. I wasn’t an employee, I was a consultant, working on a small team with a contract. Now I figured, sure, some of these guys had probably worked at NSA and the like, and I knew some of the guys from the DC office worked down in Maryland and had security clearances, but how was I to know, some kid, how connected finance is to the spook industry?

So I’m guessing, and it’s just a guess, that one of the guys on our team was assigned to this company for reasons a bit more complex than just a salary. LOL, I was surrounded by these people but I didn’t have a fucking clue.

But whatever – all I can think about is meeting Hot Chick uptown later than night, around nine. Meeting for drinks at nine basically means you’ve already scored, as long as you don’t fuck it up.

So that’s why I was uptown. We meet over at a bar close to her place, lubricate ourselves with a shot of whiskey each and two glasses of wine, then hop in a cab back to her place. I was basically raping her in the back of the cab. The driver says, “no please don’t touch her. Not here, no please.”

I swear, if I was the conspiracy theory type, I’d say the cab driver was Osama Bin Laden himself. Full bushy beard, some kind of tablecloth on his head, the whole nine yards. Of course Osama Bin Laden was on the news every once in a while but you know, we had no idea of what was coming.

So all night long I’m fucking this girl. We just walk into her apartment, she starts to get a bottle of wine by I’m just kissing all over her and just drag her into the bedroom. Two horny strangers just needing some attention and to get off. Well she wakes me up around seven and I’m hustling to get to work. No time to go back to my place but I have a change of clothes at the office for just this sort of thing. So I shower and put on last night’s clothes, which smell like smoke and whiskey. Frankly I look like shit, unshaven, but hell it was worth it.

So I walk blocks to the subway and get onto the train. This train is always fucking crowded. Miraculously, I get a seat and start reading my Wall Street Journal (best newspaper in America, at least back in those days.) Hey, I work in finance so it’s what you’re supposed to read.

I’m almost at my stop, but then, the train stops and all the lights go out. “Shit,” I’m thinking, “I’m going to be late. Jimmy is going to chew my ass out.” We sit there for five minutes – it seems like forever. The light comes on for like two seconds, then go back off. You could hear everyone on the train groaning, cursing under their breath and sighing. The announcer comes on and says, “there’s a delay.” Well, no shit, I thought. Five more minutes.

Finally, the train starts moving, but it’s going backwards. Now people are whining real loud, but it keeps going backwards. We go all the way back to the previous stop, and the announcer says, “there’s been an accident at the World Trade Center. Everyone must exit the train here. Everyone must exit.” People are mumbling, but the lights come on at the station, the doors open, and we all get off the train. The announcer says everyone must exit the station too. This sucks, but we all line up and start walking up the stairs.

I look at my watch, it’s already nine o’clock. I’m thinking, “shit I’m going to be so late.” Well I finally make it up the stairs to ground level and there’s a huge crowd standing in front of one of the buildings. Everyone is pointing and staring, some people even have video cameras out. I’m thinking what the hell is going on? So I look over to where everyone is looking and – let me tell you – I couldn’t fucking believe what I saw.


I can’t stand it I know you planned it
I’m gonna set it straight, this watergate
I can’t stand rocking when I’m in here
Because your crystal ball ain’t so crystal clear
So while you sit back and wonder why
I got this fucking thorn in my side
Oh my God, it’s a mirage
I’m tellin’ y’all it’s sabotage

Never Stick Your Dick In “Mattress Girl” Crazy

Mattress Girl makes a porno.


He slaps her face, she asks her to hit her again, he takes off the condom and, er, penetrates her anally.

Peak Rape Culture


In her words about this piece, she repeats the term “vulnerable.”

This is a fetish – it’s basic masochism mixed with a humiliation and exhibitionism fantasy.



Have you ever actually had sex with a crazy woman? It’s both hot and disturbing. Not for the faint of heart. In the red pill post, someone linked to this porno:


I watched a few seconds but honestly the dirty talk was getting me a little aroused so I turned it off.

Crazy girls … it’s like riding a wild animal. I don’t know perhaps it is an acquired taste. So once I was fucking this Blondie, this hot young disturbed girl from California with a beautiful body and a cute laugh.

I’m fucking her and she’s moaning, “oh I want to feel you inside me without a condom oh god I want it.”

I was drunk, young, and stupid, so I pulled out, took off the condom, and went in raw. You know I was so well “educated” in “safe sex techniques” and birth control I just assumed everyone else was too. I could not imagine for the life of me any woman that would actually have sex with a man she just met that night unless she was on the pill.

So I try to pull out … and she seems to think that, you know, I slipped, so she grabs me and moves over a bit and sticks me back in … literally while I am squirting.

The next day she’s like all embarrassed and tells her friend (who introduced us) she couldn’t believe I fucked her without a condom. I’m like, “you crazy bitch you were literally asking for it in explicit language!” But she didn’t mean it, it was just “dirty talk.” Her friend was like “well she wasn’t very experienced and she’s only 18!” Anyway I never saw her again but I’m not “pump and dumper” – I would have kept fucking her every day if she hadn’t have disappeared.

Ah well, women, can’t live with ’em, can’t turn them over and give them a spanking without enthusiastic verbal consent and a notarized permission slip these days.

Back in my day the girls were hilariously slutty and half the time they would rape you! Our feminists were “sex positive feminists” which meant they were really kinky and into role play and stuff.

Moral of the story, always repeat the line “never stick your dick in crazy” while knowing full well you will if the situation is right.

Thus ends the story of Mattress Girl.

Church Lady

So I’m sitting in the passenger seat, waiting for her to drive me home. I’m going to get changed and she is taking me to church.

No, I’m not lying. To church. After our hookup. It makes sense if you think about it.

I’m basically hung over and the bright sunlight is not helping. So we had snuck out to her car, but she was waylaid by her neighbor, this middle aged woman. So this woman is giving her shit, essentially.

She goes, “yeah I’m not sure what it was last night. Did you hear it? There was this banging. Over and over again. Like something repeatedly hitting the wall. Bang bang bang bang! It went on for what seemed like hours! Do you know what it was?”

So this girl was just playing along. “Oh I’m not sure.”

The women just would not shut up about it. “Oh yeah, bang bang bang over and over all night long. I couldn’t sleep it was so loud.” So the woman takes a good look at me, in the passenger seat, wearing sunglasses, nursing a hangover.

“Yeah, bang bang bang all night long! I couldn’t sleep!” she says again. She keeps eyeing me suspiciously.

This girl just stays blank. What a trooper.

Now I do not remember how I met this girl, but I’m guessing it was one of these charity events. So, I was slumming it with the “anti-facists” types as they had great drugs and we always involved in these various left-wing sorts of causes, and there was an uninterrupted supply of easy pussy that would volunteer at these sorts of charity events. You see, girls need to feel like they are doing good, and as most girls are masochists in some way, “helping the poor” or “feeding the homeless” or “protesting against injustice” provides them moral cover for what they are really doing – stalking moody, troubled boys into some “cause.”

So this girl – I don’t remember her name – I only fucked her the one time. She paraded me around her church the next day. Now she wasn’t the best looking girl in the world – but her body? Fucking prime grade A+++. Holy fucking god this girl had a body that would not quit. Great rack, smooth, perfect, milky white skin. Blonde hair, blue eyes. Her ass – holy fucking fuck.

So when we are in her bed naked, I’m feeling her up – holy uuuuh fuck. So wonderful, perfect. So I’m fucking her hard and fast and she’s moaning and into it. The head board of her bed just keeps smacking the wall and making a really loud noise. So she would stop me and say “oh we’ll wake the neighbors” and I’d slow down, but a minute later she is back to moaning and rocking her hips back and forth so I start going faster and bang goes the headboard again.

So it’s hilarious. She runs the youth group at her church – this church is one of those old time White Anglo-Saxon Protestant churches that barely even pretended to be religious or Christian anymore. It was strictly a social club for the “right people” with the “correct opinions.” Essentially, it was a big tax write off and they ran a bunch of charities around town. So she actually invites me to two events to show me off. I happily obliged her. The first was before I fucked her, to a sort of weekly meeting for 20 somethings at the church. The dudes there were all geeky, not particularly attractive but very well employed in the tech industry types. Their girlfriends were essentially the female equivalents – quite better looking than their boyfriends, just as smart but not as geeky-obsessive, and patiently waiting for a promotion so he would get on with it, buy a ring, and get her pregnant.

I had a feeling that every boy had fucked every girl in the place, that they had all known each other in this church since they were teenagers, and after a few years of partner swapping everyone had settled with someone and were now all looking to take it to the next level. There were some uncomfortable jokes about that sort of thing.

I had a feeling that my girl was still swinging, so to speak. She was likely only fucking me to make one of these boys jealous so he’d get on with it and propose, or whatever.

So we party with these types and have all sorts of “serious” conversations about “issues.” You see, that is what made up superior to typical upper middle class whites. While regular people would go to parties and the guys would talk about football and the stock market, and the gals would gossip about their kids and social circle, we talked about “serious issues.” We all knew exactly what the correct opinions were, and you got points if you were one step ahead of the game and knew about the latest trend in intersectionality of sexism and racism, or some such. Of course, everyone is as white as can be. Helping the Negro is what you do when you are showing off, no one is actually going to invite a colored to their party.

Oh, right, so I’m fucking this Unitarian-Universalist girl. Bang bang bang bang! The headboard is hitting the wall, she is moaning and totally getting off on it. I’m putting my back into it – I’m doing my best. You see, I’m a very generous lover and I always try my hardest to get them off.

Well, it’s about that time, so I flip her over and just start wailing on her perfectly shaped, perfectly smooth, perfectly round white ass. It’s like a sculpture. I mean, you could take a picture and frame it, it was that perfectly shaped. This girl’s body – I mean you cannot exaggerate. From the neck down, at least, she was Venus herself.

So she’s up on her knees, her face in the pillow, moaning, and I am just going to fucking town. I’ve got my hand on her leg, just sort of feeling her up, how soft her skin is, how perfectly shaped her body is.

Bang bang bang!

Satanic Drug Orgies

OK, so anyway, the Satanists.

So this dude that I went to high school with, let’s call him Dan. He was one of those guys that seemed smart – he looked like he should be smart. But I don’t think he really was. Kind of soft-spoken. I don’t think his family was particularly religious, but for some reason he got into drugs and the occult. He was the type that was always reading Crowley and the Kabbalah and that sort of thing. Also, way into LSD and “magic mushrooms” and the like.


Well, he wasn’t a bad looking guy, but sort of “beta” I guess, but he did wind up with this girlfriend, let’s call her Alisha. Alisha was just a bit too plump to be hot, and her face was just a bit too … something to be hot. But she did have a great rack and a round ass, and being about 21 I guess, she did ok for herself.

So Dan’s two friends that were also into this occult stuff. One was this loser. Short, ugly, geeky, and a really bad personality, let’s call him Mike. The other was also ugly, a bit fat, but really tall, let’s call him Bill. Very beta. He was pretty smart though and had all sorts of money, both family money as well as a really good paying job. I guess he was about 30.

So one day Margie and I are over at their huge – I mean freaking *huge* – house. It must have had, like, ten bedrooms, five stories. It was a sort of townhouse right in the middle of a major East Coast city. We’re sitting around on this guy’s huge bed, smoking weed, drinking wine, and listening to weird industrial goth music. So Alisha is laying next to Margie, and all of a sudden Margie is grabbing my hand, then when Alisha gets up to get more wine, Margie says, “come on, come on, let’s go. I want to go home.” I ask her what’s wrong, she says, “this chick is blowing in my ear. Gross. Come on let’s go.”

I had my first three way with Margie, so it’s not that she was completely opposed to the idea, but, frankly, Margie was like, way, way hotter than Alisha. I supposed I was a hell of a lot better looking than Dan, and I know that Margie didn’t have the slightest interest in fucking him. So this particular party gets cut short and Margie and I go home.

So anyway, one night they are doing drugs and various occult rituals, and decide to have an orgy. Apparently, Alisha liked fucking Dan, and she was fine with fucking Bill. But she balked at fucking Mike. So, apparently, Dan is fucking Alisha, then Alisha pairs off with Bill for a turn, and Mike just winds up sitting around playing with himself. I did not hear this first hand, but I have a suspicion that there was a forth guy there, and Mike and this forth guy were “bisexual” so probably wound up sucking each other’s dicks.

So later after the acid has mostly worn off, and Alisha, Dan, and Bill had fucked themselves out, they start to fall asleep. And what do you know. The entire time Mike is watching Alisha fuck Dan and Bill, his jealousy and rage are just growing. He’s getting angrier and angrier, feeling humiliated because he’s the only one that Alisha wouldn’t fuck. I’m sure he enjoyed the bisexual stuff, but fucking Alisha was the actual goal.

So what does he do?

He get a hammer and smashes her in the head with it.

She screams, Dan wakes up, and sees a naked Mike, dick in hand, still tripping his balls off, standing over the bed about to hit her with the hammer again. Dan and Bill subdue the guy, talk him down a bit, but now they have a dilemma.


They can’t go to the cops. This is attempted murder, but they can’t go to the cops because they themselves would likely be busted for all the acid – and remember, a pot charge is one thing. LSD is super-illegal. You will do heavy time for LSD. And once you’re on the cop’s list for something like that, you are always going to be watched.

So what do they do? Apparently Bill ties up Mike – of course, these are people involved in Satanic drug orgies, of course they had bondage shit, and basically make him sit there until he finally comes down off his LSD trip. They throw all his clothes and belongings into a bag, give him fifty dollars, and at dawn drop him off on some street corner somewhere and tell him to stay the fuck away from them, their house, and never, ever come back.

“Polyamory” doesn’t work. Very, very few men are able to watch the woman he’s in love with – or even just infatuated by – being penetrated vaginally, orally, and anally by another man. It just goes against the instincts of most men. Sure, maybe some gal you picked up for a one night stand, sharing her with your buddy? Sure that kind of thing might work.

It doesn’t work in reverse, as much. I’m guessing there are far, far more women that would even be turned on by the idea of their man fucking another woman (they call it cuck-queaning – don’t ask me how I know this.) But the cuckold fetish is just not that common among men. It just goes against the natural impulses.

Moral of the story – don’t hold Satanic drug orgies. It almost never turns out well.


They Don’t Make Satanists Like They Used To; Or; Why You Always Kill The Whore At The End Of An Orgy

I loved Gregory Hood’s new article, Fedora Satanism. Gregory Hood pretends he doesn’t read me, but then again you notice Hipster-isms show up in his work. Remember, Gregory Hood and I have been reading each other for well over five years now, on various websites. I just change my handle every few years.


So his latest about the Temple of Satan, the parody group that puts Satanic symbols in public places as a protest against Christian groups always wanting to put up the 10 Commandments or something. Hood compares this group – just a bunch of politically correct progressive leftists – to the old Church of Satan, the carnie act put on by Anton Levey – real name, Harry Levinstein or something. Hood quotes Levey actually making a gesture toward actual taboo-breaking when Levey suggests that a real church of Satan, back in the 1960s, would have mocked “Eastern gurus,” drugs and the drug cults, and praised old fashioned religious fundamentalism. Those were the taboos that the New Left were then abiding by.

You only have to read the comments at Alternative Right, one of the Satanists gets real butthurt that we’re not finding him as brilliant as he thinks he is. This is extremely typical on the progressive left. They are just sure – absolutely certain – that they are smarter, funnier, and more clever than everyone else. The entire progressive left runs on the Dunning-Krueger effect.

The Temple of Satan really gives itself away though – it shows how utterly unsatanic, and utterly politically correct – with their “protest” against … wait for it … the Westboro Baptist Church.

Let me tell you – the real taboo breakers? The real people working for the Dark Lord? The Westboro Baptist Church. Those people – those people broke taboos. When the Temple of Satan holds a ritual to turn Fred Phelp’s mother gay in the afterlife – that’s not breaking any taboos. That’s not anything even remotely clever, or remotely controversial.

That’s the Official Religion today. Saying Abraham Lincoln was really gay – I mean, they named the GOP gay group after that rumor. Turning people gay in the afterlife is basically a sport for the left.

When the Temple of Satan holds an event *honoring* the Westboro Baptist Church, then I’ll take them seriously. In case anyone forgot, the Westboro Baptist Church were sued all the way to the Supreme Court, and the WBC – almost single-handedly – defended freedom of speech and religion during the Bush administration, the “war on terror” and the Evangelical Christian rise post 9/11.

You would think supposed taboo-breaking Temple of Satanists would have figured this one out, eh? The Westboro Baptist Church are the “most hated family in America.” While George W. Bush and his Republican party were using Christian sentiments to promote his war on terror, the Westboro Baptist Church followed the publicity along, profaning and desecrating it. While Bush – and every two-bit pulpit-whore across America – was telling the mothers of soldiers killed in Iraq, “your son is in Heaven. He died for a good cause. God bless America.”

What did the WBC say? They said, “Bush is lying, your son didn’t die for a good cause – he died so Bush could promote fag marriage and fags in the military, and your son is roasting in Hell. God hates America, America is doomed.”

You know, when the WBC talked about the “fag Army” pre-2004, it didn’t make any sense did it. It was crazy; out of left field. Homosexuality was basically illegal in the military, a firing offense, and the US military was stuffed full of conservatives not known for their tolerant views on gay marriage.

You know, then we caught a first glimpse of the USA’s homosexual torture program. Sticking things up men’s asses. Forcing inmates to fellate each other. Dressing prisoners up in women’s underwear. All sorts of bondage – and everything heavily, heavily homo-sexualized.

Various “enhanced interrogation techniques” would slip out in the publics eye. In one case, a female soldier reached her hand down her pants, removed her bloody tampon, and smeared the blood on a detainee’s face while he was restrained. One of the most iconic images of the era was that of a female US soldier holding a leash connected to a dog collar of an Iraqi.

Sounds like something out of a FemDom BDSM porn doesn’t it?

As for religious taboos, pissing on Korans in front of detainees was par for the course. Also remember, all of this was done to “get intelligence” – whatever that means exactly.

Now, you see, while the Evangelical Christians and mega-churches and southern Republicans were singing “God Bless America” patting themselves on the back for the patriotism and support of Israel, and intoning quite seriously how we were in the Last Days in a fight with Islam to bring Jesus back …

… one group was actually taking on the “Official Christianity” of that time in America, and it sure as hell wasn’t a bunch of nerdy progressives pretending to be Satanists. That doesn’t even rise to the level of trolling Christians.

I’ll tell you what is trolling Christians – showing up at a public event where gasbag Republicans are talking about how much they love the troops and want to protect marriage, and holding up a sign that says “God hates America, Fag Troops.”

Let’s be honest – the Temple of Sataners wouldn’t have the fucking guts to do anything like that.

So the Temple of Sataner that showed up in the comments gets real, real butthurt about “racism.” You see, that’s his taboo. He is not in the least bit supportive of free speech for “racists” except for, perhaps, the most limited technical way. The think is, though, notice his reaction. Notice how quick he is to distance himself from “racists.” He uses one well-worn line, a class-based form of shaming. He is, essentially, calling “racists” “rednecks and poor white trash.” He says, only the worst sorts of white people are “racist” and that anyone who would be “proud” of the various accomplishments of the white race aren’t worthy of participating in them.

I’m telling you, once you notice it … white people who jump to show how totally “not racist” they are remind one of nothing so much as those totally-not-gay guys that go out of their way to angrily assert how totally not-gay they really are, often when no one was really even talking about that. Someone protesting too much, etc. It’s astonishing, sometimes, how utterly un-self-aware many on the left really are.

So, anyway, I knew these Satanists once and one of them was, at the time, gaining membership to a world-wide secret society of Satanists, a secret society that went back over 100 years. They would participate in Eyes Wide Shut style sex parties, do Satanic rituals, and read a lot of Crowley.

I think that gives one as much Satanic credibility as one can get, by the way. While I never did get involved, my girlfriend and I were propositioned by this guy’s girlfriend – she wanted to fuck us – and we had spent time partying at their five story, huge freaking house in a major Northeast city.

But these scenes – for some reason, you start worshiping Satan and bad shit starts to happen. So after one particular night of all sorts of crazy shit … one of the Satanists takes a hammer and starts bashing this girl’s head in.

Like I said, it was a bad scene man.

OK, let me put this in context

Never Fuck An Anti-Fa Chick

She gave me crabs!

So I was “undercover” among a group of “Peace Activists” trying to get a piece of the action, as it were. You know, young hotties would cycle in and out of this group, all trying to “save the world.” Girls like that are easy to lay, you just smoke a joint, make some grand speech about “the struggle” or whatever, and they get all doe-eyed and sort of just roll backwards on the bed with their legs in the air.

Lefty chicks are easy. Back in the 60s, they had a slogan: “Q: What is the place of women in the movement? A: On their backs!” The New Left has a serious debate on why it was important for the women to sexually service the men so they would be happy and do good movement work. Later, the feminist contingent got upset about this, and start to “fight sexism in the movement” – and that is how the Weathermen turned into the Weather People and later the Weather Underground.

So anyway probably the hottest chick I ever fucked came from this group. Thin, blue-eyed, blonde haired, she was one of those rich girls rebelling against her Republican CEO father. (Jackpot!!!) Super hot, like model hot. I have no idea why she wanted to fuck me, but I suppose it was one of my famous speeches. I was the best looking guy in this group, apparently, and she was only involved for a few months. On her last day, right in front of the entire group of people, she said, “Hipster, here’s my number. I live right down the street from you. Call me sometime,” then gave me a smile that was such an obvious come on I actually felt a bit embarassed.

Two days later, I call her up, walk over to her house, she leads me into the bedroom, and we lay down. It’s always like that. I really never quite understood why. I g uess the main reason is that I have never really pursued women. I just sort of hang around and see which one starts flirting. I guess they were all “easy” because there was little if any build up. Just meet, flirt, and fuck. This girl, I mean she wasn’t even on my radar, I assumed she was out of my league. I mean she should have been fucking some college hockey player turned corporate lawyer, not some sleazy hipster slumming it with a bunch of lefty activists for the good drugs and easy pussy.

So there was her, Daddy’s Girl, and another, this tiny little white Latina who was maybe a day over 19. Holy god, Little Latina fucked like a porn star. I also have no clue why she wanted me in her pants so bad. I was between jobs just sort of slumming it with these activist types. We fucked for like a week, then she was gone.

Then, there was this 16 year old girl that would hang around too. I invited her over to my place and we watched a movie, but I never laid a hand on her, but oh man, if it was legal I would have, she was this totally hot little number. My roomate at the time, my best bud from school, he sees her hanging around and warns me, he’s like, “oh man you better watch out, that girl is totally hot for you. How old is she? Come on, dude.”

Now, if you think I’ve had good luck with the ladies, you should have seen my friend. Ever since like junior high, he had a haren of girls chasing after him. He didn’t ever need to chase girls, he just chose from the ones that threw themselves at him. When we lived together, when we brought some chick home, we’d show her off to ther other and as our bedrooms were next to each other, the other could hear her little squeals and moans. It was almost like a competition. We actually did share two girls, I’d fuck her mouth while he was fucking her pussy, that sort of thing. The reason we were so “successful” with women? Mostly, because we were “bad boys” and girls just rarely, if ever, impressed us as people. You know, they would do their little flirting and jiggling around, and we’d be like, “eh,” so they would try harder.

So, the anti-fa chick. There was the anti-fa contingent, most of them half-homeless losers living in some sort of “community house” that they might have been squatting. The place was a fucking pig sty. I went over there to score some weed once, and there was anti-fa chick. Great rack. She was kind of like Punkette, in that she dressed real shitty, sort of left-over punk rocker, with way, way too many earrings and a nose ring. Jet black hair, brown eyes, ultra-pale. So whatever, I’m chatting her up, she starts flirting, that sort of thing.

So I don’t know, maybe a few weeks later I run into her again at some after party. Everyone is doing molly, but I’m just sticking to weed and whiskey, my drugs of choice. She’s there, also not doing pills, so we just shoot the shit and eventually take a cab back to the anti-fa flop house. We break out a bottle of wine and some kind bud, sitting down on her shitty mattress on the floor. We keep the lights dim, thankfully, because it sort of kills how fucking disgusting and gross their house was. You know, dirty dishes on the floor, old pizza boxes, probably roaches. The back room of the house had the roof half caved in. Mangy looking dogs in the house. Her mattress was covered in cat hair. It kind of smelled.

But ah man, she felt hot as fuck naked though. Big ole’s tittes and an ass that wouldn’t quit. She had quite the bush too. She gets of top of my and just rides me for a while and I flip her over to fuck her doggy style. I don’t know, we do it a few times and fall asleep.

In the morning, good god, I wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. I didn’t even finish the coffee she made me. The place was a fucking pig sty. She called me a few times afterwards, but I just sort of blew her off, figuring it wasn’t worth it.

So, like a few days later, my crotch is fucking itchy as hell. I don’t think too much about it, but one day I swear I feel a fucking bite on my balls. I’m like, “what the fuck?” I see a few red bumps and all of a sudden I realize it – the fucking bitch gave me crabs! I had to shave off my pubes and rub this horrific poison on my all over my crotch for like a week.

Lesson learned. No matter how hot they are, if she’s squatting in some “anti-fa” flophouse with a bunch of homeless looking hippie dudes and too many pets – skip it. It ain’t worth it.

That warning taken into consideration, though, I don’t want my young White Nationalist boys to get scared off on fucking lefty chicks totally. Most of them are clean. It’s really easy to fuck these girls. First, realize that women don’t really do “movements.” Girls join these “movements” because they like movement guys. They like the brooding activist types, double plus points if you are also a DJ or in a band, triple points if you deal drugs on the side. So, it’s easy to “AMOG” the other lefty guys, because guys who take leftist activism serious are losers. Not just losers, but people who wear their loserness as a badge of honor. So you just show up, give some stupid little speech about “fighting racism” or “ending the war” or “fighting for the worker’s control of their own workplaces” and name drop that you read Proudhon – bam – instant pussy. Plus, they are all “sexually liberated” so they are almost certainly down for some kinky shit too.

Young White Nationalist guys, use the “espionage model.” Pretend to be a lefty and enjoy the free pussy. Just pretend you are “against racism” and infiltrate these groups. The competition is weak and there is a new crop every few months – young, hot idealistic girls from teenagers to late 20s who float in and out of these groups riding the carousel. Get as much information as you can, then report back to Hipster Intelligence Agency with your findings. Hell, I spent my late teens and early 20s fucking a long line of these chicks, from environmental types, to anti-war activists, to feminist Planned Parenthood volunteers, to the “anarchist” punk rocker.

I even triple-teamed a bi-sexual Greenpeace chick from Portland, then had her AND her girlfriend one very memorable night. Oh man, that was hot as fuck.

You see, at the rallies and events, the girls get all worked up from the drama. My assets that infiltrated the Occupy movement said it was essentially a Free Pussy Party. Hell, my ex-girlfriend admitted she went to Occupy in NYC and slutted it up. Just make sure you take them to your place, and shave them yourself so you can make sure they are clean.