The Role of Ideology in Leftist Violence

At some of us had a debate about the role of sincerely held beliefs among leftists, particularly in the left’s internal power struggles. At first the debate shed rather more heat than light, but it was ultimately worth it because it culminated in the following very good comment from the blog proprietor.

While one should not treat the claim that the owner of an applecart is oppressing the proletariat, causing global warming, or whatever, as sincerely held, nor suppose they give a tinker’s dam about the sufferings of the proletariat or the temperature of the earth, one does need to take seriously what their story implies about what apple cart they are coordinating to knock over, and what mob they are assembling to knock it over.

These are not individual conflicts, Stalin versus Trotsky, but struggles over Schelling points for group coordination.

Trotsky was a purer communist than Stalin, because his communism was unconstrained by practical economic considerations. Since there had been repeated cycles of the ever lefter grabbing power from the insufficiently left, his purity was likely to result in him grabbing power from Stalin, which was undoubtedly the real motive behind such lunatic purity and the real reason for Stalin crushing the Trots – but such purity was likely to result in someone grabbing power from Stalin, regardless of what happened to Trotsky. The ideas, rather than Trotsky himself, were the threat.

Ideas matter. And they still matter even when they should not be taken seriously. They may not be the real motives for the left’s actions, but they are the real mechanism for left coordination to take action.

The details of Trotsky’s superior purity are irrelevant, uninteresting, hypocritical, and not sincerely held. And in this sense, it would be pointless to pay attention to the ideological argument. But the argument was real enough regardless. Stalin was impure, because concerned with practical consequences. His reasoning that Trotskyism was “objectively fascist” was that it was likely to have stupid and disastrous practical consequences that the fascists would be happy about.

Consider the question, “Are internal power struggles among leftists about ideology?” As with Hofstadter’s Godel, Escher, Bach, the correct answer to this question is not “Yes” or “No” but “Mu.”

The left’s attitude toward ideas is on the whole one of brutally amoral cynicism. Yet they can take conflicts over ideological questions very seriously indeed. This is because the stakes are often life and death. If you don’t already know, look up what happened to Robespierre and Trotsky. (I could tell you, but it will have more impact if you discover it yourself.) It is not only that the “ideas” are used as weapons to justify taking power, killing people, etc. They are also used as coordination mechanisms to settle on just who is going to be attacked in the first place.

The particular ideology the left coordinates on determines who is going to be attacked, and at the same time, why they are going to be attacked. In fact the Why determines the Who: If “racism” is the big problem, then it’s whites who are to be attacked; if pollution is the problem, then corporations. If “left deviationists,” then Trotsky. Etc.

The ideologies are both the terrain on which the ideological battle is fought and the weapons with which it is fought. They are at the same time the prize for which such battles are fought, since the winner of the ideological battle has won the power to coordinate and direct violence.

So again: “Are internal power struggles among leftists about ideology?” From a behavioral empiricist point of view, all that is going on is that evil people are engaging in gang war, both against targets in the broader society and against each other. But because coordination is all-important in war, an immense amount of energy is devoted to proving that one’s own gang has the correct ideology and opposing gangs are incorrect. It must be so, because the stakes are life and death.

Thus the apparent paradox:

Leftists, who are utterly cynical in terms of taking ideas seriously, treat ideas with the seriousness of a gutter knife fight.

Brand New Ice Skating Post

I saw these empty beer cans, with others scattered about, at a rink. Drunk ice skating: This strikes me as a bad idea.

Instead of my usual start-of-skating-season post for n00bs I’m posting this all-new one, written de novo, ab ovo, ab initio, and ex vacuo. Alright, I won’t do any more Latin. Here’s the most recent version of the usual post if you want to read that one too.

I’ll start with some quick bullet points for total n00bs:

• Wear layers so you can adjust your temperature to suit. Every rink is different and every person is different.

Female figure skaters love to wear all black when they’re practicing, for some reason. Sometimes the rink looks like some sort of Ice Ninja training facility. This is not required; you’re allowed to wear actual colors.

• Bring tissues. Every rink is a different temperature, but they’re all cold, natch, and this is likely to make your nose run.

• When you start, make at least one slow circuit of the rink in which you look for any imperfections in the ice. Ice can have gashes and chips from previous skating, even after resurfacing, and there can even be mounds of ice if there’s a drip from the ceiling. I’ve seen one half as big as my fist.

Let’s get deeper into it:

“It’s just like walking on ice, dude.” NO IT ISN’T!

Why does ice skating seem weird and difficult when you first try it?

Well, for one thing, you can’t plant your feet, as you’ve been doing on terra firma (I lied about the no more Latin thing) ever since you could walk. This seems weird and unsettling and makes you fall down at first.

Yet you see hockey players hurtling around at high speed, figure skaters jumping into the air and twirling around three times before landing on their feet, etc. (Twirling, always twirling toward freedom!) More casually, the rink where I mostly skate these days is predominantly populated by regulars: Come there and you’ll see us standing around on the ice chatting when we’re not working out. Everyone’s at ease; falling is not a thing for this crowd in that situation.

How? “Practice,” you say. Yes, of course.

But it’s also a change in mindset, in the whole basic approach to how you’re interacting with the medium under your feet.

On ice there is no stillness. There’s no “plant your feet and just stand there.” It is inherently dynamic. This is what makes ice skating so exhilarating.

Watch the feet of those practiced skaters standing around chatting. Unless they’re leaning against the boards, their feet are almost always in motion, at least a little. Ice is slippery (news flash!) and when you’re standing on ice, perched atop blades an eighth of an inch thick, you are by default in motion. It’s play, constant glorious play.

Another thing you must re-learn: On ground, both moving and stopping involve pushing with your feet against the ground in the same manner, whatever the direction in which you’re applying the force. Want to move forward? Push either foot backward. Want to move to the left? Push a foot to the right. Etc.

But your skates’ blades point from the front to the back of your foot, so your ability to push against the ice depends on which way your feet are pointed. I suppose that to noobs this seems like a mad universe with mad laws of physics.

Want to move forward? Pushing a foot straight backward doesn’t work. You’re sliding a narrow blade straight back on ice. All that will happen is that your foot will go back. To go forward you must turn the pushing foot to the side so the blade’s inside edge digs into the ice when you push back.

(Skate blades have an inside edge, toward the side of your foot that faces the other foot, and an outside edge, that’s on the side of the blade that faces away from the other foot.)

What about stopping? Trying to plant your feet doesn’t work if your feet are facing forward; you’ll just continue gliding. Again, you have to turn your feet sideways so the blade’s edge can scrape against the ice and friction you to a stop. (Yeah, I just verbed the word “friction.”) But it violates your instincts at first that your ability to push against the ice depends on which way your feet are pointed. No wonder n00bs fall sometimes. Really, it’s impressive that they fall as little as they do.

To turn on ice you have a couple of options. As with firm ground, you can turn by stepping in the desired direction. But when you’re in motion you can also turn by simply shifting your body weight in the desired direction. The way your edges interact with the ice will naturally induce a curve in your direction of motion.

So most of your instincts are wrong when you’re first starting. I always cringe when I overhear noobs with false confidence telling their friends as they’re lacing up, “It’s just walking on ice, dude.” No!

Random picture of an ice babe.


(1) By default there is no stillness on ice. To be on ice is to be in a world of wonderful, unceasing free movement.

(2) Simplified summary of the basics for noobs: The effects of applying force against the ice with your feet are not the same in every direction. The front-to-back direction of your feet is very low-friction. The side-to-side direction of your feet is very high-friction. You use these two facts together to control your movement. Gliding is effortless on ice, and you use your edges to push yourself into motion, to stop yourself, or to turn.

We’re not meant to walk; walking is a second-best activity we have to settle for when we can’t be on the ice.

Confession: I love watching noobs trying to skate. They act like the ice is their enemy! Silly noobs! Ice is not your enemy! Ice loves you and wants to be skated on (as long as you respect it). Let me re-purpose a statement Ben Franklin made about wine:

Ice is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.

Miscellany 30: Miscellany Beats Four Aces

(1) Summer 2022: I just found out that General Butt Naked is an actual person!!!

Until then I thought “General Butt Naked” was just a metaphor that Jim of Jim’s Blog had made up.

Actual quote: “When I’m naked I activate my spiritual powers faster.”

O brave new world, that has such people in’t.

(2) LOL: Boston Pride committee acknowledges its systemic racism and disbands over QTBIPOC criticism

July 2021

Boston Pride, a group advocating for the LGBTQIA+ agenda, acknowledged systemic racism within its own organization and disbanded.

The board of directors released a statement explaining the reasons for their disbanding…

“It is clear to us that our community needs and wants change without the involvement of Boston Pride. We have heard the concerns of the QTBIPOC community and others. We care too much to stand in the way,” the statement continued.

“Therefore, Boston Pride is dissolving,” they added. “There will be no further events or programming planned, and the board is taking steps to close down the organization.”

Related: Another leftist group commits suicide over self-confessed “racism”: Auckland chapter of New Zealand’s School Strike 4 Climate group admits racism and disbands

(3) Vox Day quotes an article that says,

The Dalai Lama has sparked controversy after he once again defended White nationalism. [Eye roll.] The elderly monk agreed with the statement that, “white people have a right to exist in their own countries.” Explaining himself, he stated, “I do not think a world without white people would be complete. We should celebrate the whole world’s diversity and that of course means nations being their own. I do not think a France without the French would be a good thing, but completely the opposite. I love all people.”

Going on, he stated that, “I can understand the sadness and despair of Europeans and Americans who worry about losing their countries. Immigrants should return to their own countries, especially those who are from safe places. When I travel to Berlin, I wonder, where are the Germans? I weep for what they have lost.”

(4) Commenter Fireball at, on J. K. Rowling getting daily death threats because of her opposition to the trans thing:

“The old leftists always forget that the revolution doesn’t stop where they are comfortable with it.”

Speaking of which: Police remove lesbians from LBGT parade in Cardiff because they confronted transvestites.

What you did to us is now being done to you. You normalized the politics of “Shut up, you bigot!” And now the politics you created are coming for you.

And again: Women’s rights activists are ‘silenced’ by trans-rights mob clad in black as Bristol anarchists tell feminists they are ‘next’…

And again: The Revolution does not stop where you are comfortable with it.

(5) Oh my God: In Iowa, a man gets sentenced to 1 year in prison for stealing a rainbow gay flag… and another 15 years in prison for burning it, as a “hate crime.”

(6) The three suspected shooters in this mass shooting are all black. Three people were murdered and 14 more were injured. For some reason, there is no front-page coverage of this in the national media. Huh.

For those who will yawn and say, “More leftist hypocrisy, so what?” the response is, Yeah, you may already know that, but somewhere out there are a fuck-ton of 18-year-olds whose political beliefs are just starting to form, and who don’t know it yet. The more we mention this sort of thing, the more those youngsters will happen upon it. One doesn’t call out leftist hypocrisy to shame leftists into stopping the hypocrisy. (As if.) One calls out leftist hypocrisy to draw it to the attention of those whose political beliefs haven’t jelled yet.

(7) “Isolated.” A ton of leftist rhetoric involves this as some sort of “threat.” That reveals what they fear. The latest example as of this writing in 2022 is Vladimir Putin, but there are tons of examples, e.g. Britain during the Brexit debates, etc.

Here’s an example regarding Putin: It has a screen grab of a tweet in which one Teri Schultz writes,

Estonian Premier @kajakallas is exasperated that Vladimir Putin’s phone line is so busy:

“If you really want him to get the message that he’s isolated,” she says, boiling it down. “Don’t. Call. Him.”


“In candid interviews and fly-on-the-wall footage captured by director Amanda Micheli in the summer of 2019, [Jennifer] Lopez tries to keep mum about speculation she’s the “front-runner” to headline the [Superbowl] halftime show. So when the announcement comes that September she’ll be joined by Shakira, Lopez’s team calls it a slight against both women, suggesting that the NFL doesn’t believe Latinas can command the world’s biggest stage solo.”

You cannot appease the woke. Putting not one but two Latinas onstage didn’t quell the accusations of being anti-Latina. And putting three, or three hundred, wouldn’t have done so either. The Left cannot be appeased. It can only be defeated.

Hockey, bitchez!

(For those seeking ultrabrilliant thoughts on political matters, that regular content will resume with the next post.)

This post is all about HOCKEY because I recently played my first game – well, scrimmage – and I’m too amped to not post about it.

Been skating for more than half a decade. Over the years at least two people I don’t know have tried to recruit me for their local game-night league teams based on seeing me skate at various rinks. I always liked the idea but it was never “a good time to start.” WRONG! It’s ALWAYS a good time to start! If you’ve thought about this you can see that I’m telling you exactly what everyone else tells you after they first start. Do it! Do it NOW, bitch!

Just get to the point, in terms if skating, where you can actually get from point A to point B on the ice – though by the way, there are total novice programs for people who have never even put on a pair of skates before too; hunt around.

Q: “What if I live in Ecuador and there are no rinks in my country?”
A: I am truly sorry. It means it will be difficult for you to play the best game in the world. But not impossible. The solution is to move to a different country. I hear that in Canada they have a rink like every half mile (or as they put it, every 0.8 kilometers, eh?).

So anyway this is how it went the first time. At first I could not even get to the rink. Some huge fire or accident or whatever. Bunch of fire trucks, ambulances. They’ve closed off the road. Not just, it’s down to one lane, but they’re turning people back. I’ve only been to this rink like three times before, for open skate, and this is the only route I know to get there. Aargh!

So I’m driving around at night, clouds, no moon, can’t see anything. Have to ask my phone for an alternate route. Forced to back way the hell up and start over. Get lost, already really late. The street signs in this area are lettered in like 12-point font. Can’t figure out where I am, have to get out of the car a couple of times and stand directly under the freakin street sign just to see what intersection I’m at. Then the classic movie thing happens: I say “God damn it, everything that could possibly go wrong is going wrong.” A couple of minutes later it starts to rain. I swear I am not making this up. Oh yeah, and the couple of times I stop at gas stations to ask directions, they either have no clue or are a bunch of surly assholes. Finally one woman at a drug store helps me out. Thank you kindly drug store woman.

FUCK, I’m already 40 minutes late! I am in a FOUL mood. But I finally get there and get into my gear. We’re supposed to start at 9:00. I step onto the ice at 9:50. Not loving it and I feel like a total tool.

And then…

The night starts getting a lot better. The coach, a cool guy I know from other local rinks, explains the drill that we’re doing. I’m terrified I’m going to look like an ass. But I watch a few guys go through the drill and realize that a good chunk of them have no more stick/puck skills than I do – which is to say, none to speak of – and in terms of skating ability I’m right in the middle of the pack, or maybe a little above average. Actually there wasn’t a lot of variance in terms of skating ability. So I just step into the line and do it, and Ah, okay. I got this. I’m no Wayne Gretzky, but basically no one else there is either. (There are a couple of guys who are noticeably better than the rest of us, but they’re the exception.) OK!

We do the drill (two on one) for 5 or 10 minutes, then divide into teams for a scrimmage. Woooo! Wow that’s fun! It really is the most fun you can have with your clothes on.

My God, the cardiovascular workout! Go onto YouTube hockey channels and everyone’s talking stick work/puck handling, skating skills, how to deke defenders, etc. No one talks conditioning! WHEN YOU’RE OUT THERE YOU’RE ESSENTIALLY DOING WIND SPRINTS THE ENTIRE TIME! I have literally never been this spent before in my entire life. When I’m subbing out I’m not so much saying “Left!” (wing) as rasping it. I’m not even sure anyone could hear me, but the coach knows what position I’m playing, obvs, so when I come to the boards he tells the next guy up. When I sub out I get a leg over the boards and I don’t sit, I collapse onto the bench.

So if you’re going to do this, make sure you’re in shape. Don’t worry about having big pecs. Focus on shaping up your heart and lungs.

So what about skating skills, by the way? I love skating and have been doing it for years. Skating is infinite; no matter how much you know or how large your set of skills, you can always add more. I could spend a lifetime just happily adding more skating skills.

BUT: Don’t obsess about this from a hockey point of view, because at least at the beginner level, based on my experience, you are not going to be using any skills other than:
That’s it. Don’t worry about being able to do a mohawk/eagle or doing a teardrop cut backwards on your outside edge. You’re never going to use that in gameplay, from what I experienced. I’m not saying more skating skill isn’t better. But focus on the stuff you’ll actually be using the most, like sharp, brutal changes of direction.

Get off the ice, we’re all changing, chatting. Good group.

Can’t wait for next time.

PS: Here’s Mikayla Demaiter:

It’s all about the hockey.

Defeating the Leftist Memeplex

At, commenter Contaminated NEET says,

Leftism is weaponized envy, right? It’s all about knocking over applecarts to gather other people’s apples. Well, there are always going to be people with a lot more apples than the rest of us, and those without so many apples are going to envy and resent them for it. Leftism taps into this power. It’s not just a set of memes that happened to be lying around when the holiness spiral started; it’s a set of memes that justifies and harnesses envy on a mass scale. It’s an extremely powerful and well-adapted memeplex, a miracle of evolution; only the great world religions come close.

And at he says (referencing Gnon, the backwards acronym for Nature or Nature’s God):

We like to say we’re the people who face reality in all its harshness; we try to act with the will of Gnon, rather than against it. Well, Gnon says that Leftist egalitarian nonsense is a really good way to organize and motivate large numbers of people so you can seize power, and nobody has ever found a way to beat it. Nobody out here in NRx land has looked that forbidden eldritch truth in the face.

True. But Gnon—that is, observed reality—also tells us that leftism is not a way to keep power once you’ve gotten it, because “betray and backstab everybody else” is not a tenable grounding for a cohesive ruling elite. Leftism always fails because you can’t create cohesion based on an ideology of “Fuck cohesion.” Cf. the fates of Robespierre, Trotsky, etc.

This is not to deny the real truth and force of Contaminated NEET’s points. It is true, as he says, that leftism is “an extremely powerful and well-adapted memeplex, a miracle of [memetic] evolution.”

But while leftism is an impressively highly evolved memeplex for taking power, it is only for taking power; it can’t hold on to it on significant timescales. And there is no danger that leftists, having seized power, will then switch to an ideology of loyalty and actually practice what they preach, because leftism is primarily a personality type, not an ideology. “But wait!” you cry. “Doesn’t that contradict everything you’ve been saying about what an impressively evolved memeplex leftism is?” No, because the memeplex is only an excrescence of the personality type. Leftists couldn’t change what they are even if they wanted to. And if they could see the benefits of mutual loyalty, they wouldn’t be leftists in the first place.

But just letting leftists take power and waiting them out while they destroy themselves is not a good strategy, since they have a tendency to destroy everything else too. They slaughter people by the millions when they can, as the history of the twentieth century attests.

The leftist delight in genocide is especially chilling with respect to my nation, the USA, since our defining characteristic is that we do everything big.

So we are in world in which genocidal maniacs are more than halfway to absolute power, and just waiting them out isn’t really a good plan. Can we do better? Hmm.

I don’t think anyone has found a reliable, replicable way to beat leftism before it takes absolute power. To be sure, leftism collapses all the time, from its own insane unworkability, because “Fuck loyalty” is not an ideology that can sustain loyalty, “Kill people with stuff and take all their stuff” is not a long-run workable economic system, etc. But no one that I know of has ever actually beaten leftism before it takes total power— in a systematic, replicable way— as opposed to just waiting until it wins and then dies off due to its own unworkability. Perhaps this has happened and we don’t know about it precisely because it creates historical epochs with normal human society instead of leftism. We need to go digging into history to see if this has happened. Otherwise, we need to find a way to do it.

We’re just going to have to be the first, folks. No one ever walked on the moon until people walked on the moon. Let it be said, decades from now, that no one ever found a way to defeat the left before they took absolute power, until some people defeated the left before they took absolute power.

A major problem is that the lies of leftism— like “We just want to liberate everybody; we believe in freedom”— are not obviously lies until the left is in power, when they enslave everyone, and then it’s too late. We need, among other things, a way to teach every kid the actual historical record of leftism, that when they’re in power they enslave, torture, imprison, and mass-murder enormous numbers of people. And we have to do this in face of two opposing facts: One, leftists are experts at infiltrating institutions like educational institutions, so they simply squelch any attempt to teach children the horrors of leftism. Two, most people find it difficult to believe in the existence of pathological liars. The idea that someone like Noam Chomsky would bald-facedly deny the murders of the Khmer Rouge regime, even though he knew that happened, is not in most people’s headspace. Again and again the lying nature of leftists must be rubbed in people’s faces.

How can we do this? That’s one of the most important questions to be answered. We need to spread truth in the teeth of the fact that leftists are instinctive pathological liars and instinctive infiltrators, and they are instinctive censors; they have no compunctions about silencing those who would expose their plans.

Barring that, we’ll have to basically become preppers and try the “wait it out” strategy, for lack of an alternative.

Not Red Pill in Fiction: The Dirty Girls Social Club

The Dirty Girls Social Club, by Alisa Valdes-Rodriguez, published in 2003. Fair warning: This is mostly just me venting at the identity politics bait-and-switch that is this “novel.”

Aw, man, I had such high hopes for this one based on the first few pages. Classic female chunks of cheese all over the place (details to follow). Then the estrogen-infused cheese disappears. Worse, it becomes a politically correct race-sex-LBGTQ tract. With no plot, not even a pretend plot. Not even a gesture in the direction of faking an interest in thinking about the possibility of coming up with a plot. Sigh. Well, at least I got this for just 50 cents at a local library book sale. If I’d paid full price for this I’d be pissed. I mean, the title, “The Dirty Girls Social Club,” come on! That’s purposefully designed to trick 25-year-old chicks into buying it, expecting a lot of graphic sex, just so they can be conned into reading the author’s political complaints.

And it started so promisingly! Here’s what I’d written when I was a few pages in:

A “novel” about six “Latina” chicks living in Boston. They call themselves “sucias,” which we’re told means “dirty girls.” Each chapter is narrated by a different chick. At least judging by the first chapter there’s a lot of PC whining about being Hispanic in the US, which I am mostly going to try to ignore. But some of it is bound up with the author’s standard-mold female drama queenery, attention-whoring, and humble-bragging, so it’s impossible to avoid all of it. I hope that later chapters, narrated by other characters, will dial this the fuck down or it’s going to get really old really fast.

(Boy, was that hope dashed.)

But judging from the first 3 pages, this is going to be great as far as the female psychology stuff goes. The narrator of the first chapter is one Lauren Fernandez. In a horribly violent act of cultural genocide, I am omitting the accent mark over that last letter a. (I’m tempted to include an umlaut over one of the consonants, like Spinal Tap.) She bemoans her excessively dramatic life in classic female drama queen fashion – in particular the fact that her boyfriend is cheating on her – does a humblebrag about a guy at the bar checking her out even though she describes herself as “gross,” and obsesses about her fingernails and her variable clothing sizes, thus confirming that if men portrayed women as being half as obsessed with clothing and personal grooming as they actually are, feminists would go into tachycardia. She then returns to the fact that the men in her life all cheat on her. Complete with the standard excuse-making and denial of responsibility: “I don’t pick them, exactly. They find me, with that whacked radar…” All this within the first two pages! You can see why I had high hopes for this one.

She’s a reporter, because of course she is. It had to be either that or lawyer. Assuming that another one of the “dirty girls” is a lawyer, what do the other four do? Can’t wait to find out! My guess as of page 5: One of them does something in education, one works for a charity, and one has some sort of “high-pressure” corporate job. That leaves one for government, maybe “social work” of some kind. LATER: Not one but two “journalists”! And one professional musician: how could I have forgotten “rock star”?

P.6: More PC whining about how hard it is being a non-white chick. Complains that when she doesn’t do her job, a white man dares to note that fact:

“I’m always early. It’s the reporter training—come late, lose the story. Lose the story, risk having some envious and mediocre white guy in the newsroom accuse you of not deserving your job.” Can you believe that? Some white guy might say I don’t deserve my job just because I didn’t do my job! The nerve! I’m a non-white woman! I deserve to keep my job even if I don’t do it! Grr. Talk about entitlement mentality! I’m noting this because it’s relevant on the very next page, so put it in your short term memory.

P. 7: In case you didn’t get the drama queenery a couple of pages ago: “Men like Ed [her boyfriend] find me, because they smell the hidden truth of Lauren on the wind: I hate myself because no one else has ever bothered to love me.” Leaping cats! How do people who are so un-serious take themselves so seriously? You can practically see her striking a pose. The back of one hand presses against her forehead as she slumps to the ground in a faint. From all the drama! Of being forced to date jerks!

Still p. 7: More self-obsessed PC whining: “First week on the job an editor strolled past my desk and said in the deliberate, too-loud English they would all come to use on me, ‘I’m so glad you’re here representing your people.’” No whiteys talk like this to Hispanics, at least not that I’ve ever heard. The other two options are to say “I’m not glad you’re here,” in which case she’d complain about the hostility, or to say nothing, in which case she’d complain about being “culturally erased” or something.

Still p. 7: Check this out: Our Narratrix wants another beer, and is peeved that the waitress is distracted by the bar’s TV: “Como? she asks, looking confused. She was watching a Mexican soap opera on a small TV behind the counter and looks annoyed to be bothered with, you know, work.” Jesus, bitch, it was just at the top of the previous page that you complained about being expected to do your job!

P.9: attention whore ultra-fantasy. Our Narratrix is a reporter, as I may have mentioned once or twice. The paper she works for, The Gazette, has recently, well, read:

“It’s getting a little harder to take public transit because the Gazette recently put up billboards all over town with my huge red-brown curly hair and grinning freckled face on them, accompanied by the idiotic words ‘Lauren Fernandez: Her Casa Is Your Casa, Boston.’”

This chick—I mean the author, Alisa Valdes-Rodriguez— is 200-proof female psychology. You can sense her having some sort of attention-whoregasm as she fantasizes about having her face on billboards all over a major city.

Why the billboard thing targeted to Hispanics? Because…

“Money talks, see. Hispanics are no longer seen as a foreign unwashed menace taking over the public schools with that dirty little language of theirs; we are a domestic market.”

What you mean “we,” hon? On several previous pages you mentioned that you don’t speak Spanish, and acted all aggrieved that whiteys might assume that you did just because you’re, you know… Hispanic. (She actually calls that assumption “illogical.”) Now in the context of the Spanish language you’re suddenly using the word “we.”

Seriously, from page 7:

“Here’s how my job interview went: You’re a Latina? How… neat. You must speak Spanish, then? When you’ve got $15.32 in your bank account… what do you say to a question like that, even when the answer is no? …With a name like Lauren Fernandez, they figured Spanish was part of the package. But that’s the American disease as I see it: rampant, illogical stereotyping.” (If you hate it so much here, you are quite welcome to leave.) And page 8: “But what I thought was: Just hire me. I’ll learn Spanish later.”

Having explicitly stated that she doesn’t speak Spanish, and called anyone who assumes she does a bigot, she then says, “Hispanics are no longer seen as a foreign unwashed menace… with that dirty little language of theirs; we are a domestic market.” We?

Let’s skip ahead 100 pages to page 105: Her boss Chuck, a ridiculous dorky white man – of course – can’t speak Spanish. While she doesn’t actually say “I’m aggrieved by this!” it’s a strong subtext:

“It wasn’t until [blah blah] that Chuck figured out who Ricky Martin was. Now he goes around, years too late, singing “Livin’ la Vida Loca,” only he can’t say vida and he can’t say loca, so he ends up singing ‘Livin’ Evita Loqua.’”

He can’t pronounce words in Spanish – a language which I don’t speak either. But I’m going to act aggrieved anyway. It’s so culturally insennnnnnsitive! How DARE you not speak a language which I also don’t speak?! You fucking American bigot!

I remember when Livin’ la Vida Loca was a hit. I never encountered a whitey who couldn’t say it. “Vida” and “loca” are easy words to say. She couldn’t even be bothered to come up with a word that contains, for example, the letter ñ (say “enye”), which is not pronounced like n, and which a non-Spanish speaker might actually be confused about. For someone who writes so voluminously – you should read the 100 pages of pointless filler I skipped over – she sure is a lazy writer. How hard would it have been to make up such an example?

Enraging though all this is, it’s a great example of the sheer illogicality of leftism and female-think. And when you combine leftism and female-think, WOW. First she whines that she’s expected to do her job (how unfair!). Then whines that the waitress isn’t doing her job. Then she denies speaking Spanish, then acts personally aggrieved that some whiteys might have a low opinion of Spanish. Jeez. The sheer lack of any consistency, or any concern for consistency, really is shocking. Yeah, I know I shouldn’t be shocked. I’ve been studying leftists, and women, for decades. Yet the Satan-level hypocrisy and double standards make steam come out of my ears.

A Net search reveals that the author of this identity-politics Communist Manifesto got a job at the Los Angeles Times after this novel was published. (The double-journalist set of characters was obviously an author-insert fantasy.) Anyway, she ended up quitting her job at the L.A. Times, accusing that paper of… can you guess? I bet you can! … racism and sexism! Surprise!

In what other country in the world would people put up with this crap? If you went to China, got a cushy “job” as a “reporter” and then quit with complaints that the newspaper was full of Chinese people, I’m pretty sure they’d “invite” you to leave the country. Only in the white world do we let people come to our countries and abuse us this way. The situation cannot last.

Back to it. P. 102: a diatribe against a right-wing journalist lying. Unreal. Who lies more, right-wing journalists or left-wing journalists? On the same page, a diatribe against a right-wing political group throwing Molotov cocktails. Bitch, please! Who throws more Molotov cocktails, right-wingers or left-wingers? It really is true that leftists always project.

Also on page 102: She recalls that when she started working at the newspaper, an old hand gave her three pieces of advice, Blah, Blah-blah, and “Three, don’t wear your skirts so short ’cuz you’re makin’ me sweat.” You wish, honey.

P. 103: Back near the start of the book, the Narratrix had recalled a scene in which a college professor was so scared of having several hispanic women in the class that he was literally trembling. (WTF?) on p. 103 we get more surreal fantasizing that white people find her scary because she’s hispanic: “I love my desk. I have draped it in Mexican rugs and Santeria beads just to scare everyone.” Then, in the same paragraph, some whining about her boss sending her out to cover a story and adding, “Bring me back some biscotti, almond.” Ah, yes, I always order people I’m scared of to run errands for me.

P. 103-4: Complaining about how her boss sent her on a job to cover some Mexican laborers. How dare he assume that I’m Mexican, just because I’m hispanic! MAYBE THAT HAS SOMETHING TO DO WITH THE FACT THAT YOU DRAPED MEXICAN RUGS ALL OVER YOUR DESK, YOU FUCKING CUNT.

Alright, I’m done. Pretty sure this book doesn’t contain any fun “dirty girl” stuff, now that I’m more than 100 pages into it. Given that nothing prefigured by the title actually appears in the novel, as far as I can tell, I infer that the title was purely chosen to trick people into reading the identity politics screeching.

SJW Attack on a Black Female Author of Gay Porn

If you think your demographic characteristics or your “Love wins” bumper sticker make you safe, you are dangerously out of contact with current reality.

Another day, another surreal accusation of hateful statements against…Gypsies?


The author, Stephanie Burke, is a long-time attendee and panelist at Fantasy/SciFi conventions like the one in Baltimore, Balticon. At the latest Balticon she was falsely accused of various statements of the type that that politically correct people like to screech about. I say she was falsely accused because the recording of one panel she spoke at turned up nothing “offensive,” a witness at another panel recalled nothing “offensive,” and when she requested to know the evidence against her, the accuser laughed in her face.

After being falsely and frivolously accused of making objectionable statements, she was roughly and loudly removed from yet another panel where she was scheduled to speak, in view of many audience members. Burke generally had her name dragged through the mud with bizarre accusations about insulting Gypsies and transgenders, the latter being particularly weird since she says she has a “transgendered daughter” herself.

Burke is a black woman with a transgendered child and she has written a book of gay porn gay romance. Here’s the link at Amazon (where it’s categorized as “Fantasy” for some reason). She also claims to have neurological issues, so she could play the “ablest” card.

None of this protected her.

In case you’re a leftist who is just starting to explore “right-wing” thought, or who wound up here by accident, this is why we have sayings like “The Left always eats its own,” “The Revolution devours its children,” etc. That last saying came from Jacques Mallet du Pan’s observations on the French Revolution in response to events like Robespierre being executed without trial by his fellow leftist revolutionaries, shortly after he recommended that… “counterrevolutionaries” be executed without trial. LOL. And remember how Trotsky died. These sayings exist because they’re true.

I imagine Stephanie Burke thought herself absolutely bulletproof: She’s a female, black, gay-porn writing, mother of a transgender, with neurological issues. Yet all that amounted to nothing. She might as well have been a straight white man in a MAGA hat.

Each individual leftist always has a bizarre fantasy that the revolution will stop precisely where he wants it to stop. Of course this is ridiculous. Leftism is a machine and once you’ve started it rolling downhill you cannot stop it where you please. Yes, this applies to you.

Or, to switch metaphors:

It’s easy to invite a vampire into your house, but getting it to leave again is another matter.

Inflation and all that

Hey everybody, inflation’s back in the headlines! Suffering from social embarrassment because you can’t follow discussions of economic policy? Lonely because that cute guy you like only dates girls who understand the Taylor Principle? Have you been bullied because you confused the Fed and the Treasury? We’re here to help! Here’s a primer on US monetary policy and related matters.

Executive summary: Inflation is a rise in the general level of prices of goods and services. In the long run inflation is caused by increasing the amount of money in circulation.

1. The Federal Reserve System. The USA’s central bank. A central bank is not actually a bank. It’s the part of the government that prints the money.

(The issuers of various kinds of US money are the Federal Reserve System, the Treasury, and the Mint, jointly. But the first of these is the institution that handles monetary policy; see below.)

Everyone calls the Federal Reserve System “the Fed.” The Fed was legislated into existence in 1913. Aside from controlling influencing the supply of money, it has the power to create regulations that affect broad swathes of the financial sector (particularly banks), and to “interpret” regulations created by Congress and the President.

2. “Dollars.” The two most liquid forms of dollar-denominated assets are literal paper dollars and dollar-denominated electronic reserves. Electronic reserves are simply numbers in a Fed computer. Those numbers are assets of commercial banks (i.e. actual banks) and similar financial institutions. Banks can have reserve accounts at the Fed. You and I can’t.

Electronic reserves are money for two reasons: One reason is that everyone accepts them as money, i.e. as media of exchange. You go to the sex store and buy a 5-gallon barrel of lube, a 7-speed vibrator, and a pair of crotchless panties for $100. You swipe your card through the reader and payment has been made.

(This process decreases the balance in your checking account by $100 and adds $100 to the sex store’s account at its bank (or similar financial institution). The two banks talk to each other, via the Fed, which debits your bank’s reserve account by $100 and credits the sex store’s bank’s account by $100. BTW, the process is not actually as instantaneous as it seems. Also, it’s not always mediated by the Fed, which subcontracts out some of this payments-clearing stuff.)

The second reason that electronic reserves are money is that if a bank requests it, the Fed will ship paper money against their electronic reserves at one-for-one. E.g. the Fed will lower the bank’s electronic reserve account number by $50 million and ship it $50 million in paper dollars in an armored truck.

While I’m on the subject: take out a dollar bill and note the “legal tender” language. This is what people mean when they call dollars “fiat money”: another reason they’re money is legal fiat. See below for more.

3. Treasury securities (bills, notes, and bonds). Yes, this is relevant for monetary policy; bear with me. These are basically IOUs the Treasury sells when the federal government needs to borrow money. The buyers of these securities are lending money to the federal government. The simplest version of this is a piece of paper which— well, they’re not generally paper any more, but anyway— a piece of paper that works like this: A 6-month Treasury note, which the Treasury sells on June 1, 2022, says

“The US Treasury will pay the holder of this piece of paper $1,000 on December 1, 2022.”

On June 1, 2022, someone buys that note for some amount smaller than its face value of $1,000. (The price the Treasury can get for it is determined by conditions in financial markets.) That allows the buyer to earn interest. For example, say you buy it for $990 on 6/1/22. Then on 12/1/22 when the Treasury gives you $1,000, you have gotten back the $990 you lent to the government plus $10 of interest. So you’ve earned a six-month interest rate of $10/$990, or about 1%. (Note this is not the implied yearly interest rate.)

So the note earns interest because it sells at a discount from its face value. So this is called a discount bond. Since it makes no “coupon” payments before its maturity it’s also called a no-coupon bond. Coupon bonds make a sequence of payments, at least one coupon payment before their final payment.

State and local government bonds and corporate bonds work the same way, terms of their basics, as Treasury bonds.

4. Why do some people say that (a lot of) modern money is “debt”? First note that money is anything that is generally accepted in exchange for goods and services. (“Money” is defined by a list of several features, but that’s the headliner.) If I can go into a sex store and walk out with a 5-gallon drum of lube, by swiping a card that’s connected to my checking account, then the number in my checking account is money.

Thus, impeccably conventional measures of the money supply include numbers in checking accounts. (The way the law usually works— things are different at the moment due to COVID— is that for every $1 in electronic reserves that a bank has, it’s allowed to have up to $10 in checking accounts on its books.) Notice something: While the number in your checking account is an asset from your point of view, it’s a liability from the bank’s point of view. Why? Because they have to surrender that money if you direct them to. They have to either give you paper dollars or they have to make payment to a third party (the sex store, e.g.) when you swipe your card or write a check.

So a lot of modern money is something that appears on the liability side of some financial institution’s balance sheet. Thus, debt.

5. Monetary policy. The changing of the money supply to achieve certain economic goals, one part of economic policy. There is more than one kind of monetary policy, especially in, say, a pandemic in which the Fed is crazily improvising, but normally the main one is a simple thing with a complicated name: open market operations (OMO).

OMO is simply the Fed buying and selling Treasury securities.

When the Fed wants to raise the money supply by say $10 billion, it simply buys $10 billion of Treasury bonds (bills, or notes, whatevs). It credits the bond sellers’ accounts (or their banks’ accounts) with $10 billion of reserves. Where do those reserves come from? The Fed just types them up. People at the Fed raise the number in the reserve accounts in the Fed’s computers.

So the Fed has removed $10 billion of T-bonds from the economy and injected $10 billion of money. This increases the supply of money, colloquially “printing money.”

If the Fed wants to decrease the money supply it sells bonds. The Fed gives (say) $10 billion of T-bonds to various bond buyers, and they make payment by giving the Fed $10 billion of reserves. Then the Fed destroys those reserves. How? It just lowers the number in the relevant reserve account. Where does that money go? Like love in that old J. Geils Band song, it’s gone, that’s all.

6. Inflation. Inflation is a rise in the general level of prices of goods and services. In the long run, inflation is caused by money creation.

Everyone in the world who is knowledgeable about this topic knows how to stop inflation: Stop printing money. This might not happen for two possible reasons. One reason is that the central bank believes (rightly or wrongly) that the economic costs of stopping the inflation would be worse than the inflation. The other is political stuff. E.g. maybe the government’s executive branch is (for various reasons) pressuring the central bank to continue the money printing.

7. Interest rates. What’s all this talk about interest rates in monetary policy? While monetary policy is (by definition) the changing of the amount of money in circulation, most central banks usually think about policy through an interest rate channel. That is, the supply of money affects interest rates— take this on faith please; this post is already longer than I planned— and interest rates affect other stuff that we actually care about, like GDP, the unemployment rate, etc.

When you contract the money supply you stop and indeed reverse inflation. You also (in the short run) cause interest rates to go up (take on faith). So people say things like “We need to raise interest rates to stop inflation.” I think this is an unfortunately roundabout way of expressing it.

8. Miscellaneous items.

(A) Because central banks often think about policy in an interest rate way, here’s an important distinction: Nominal interest rates are not adjusted for inflation. Real interest rates are.

Provided the numbers involved are not too large, the adjustment is extremely simple: The real interest rate is just the nominal interest rate minus the inflation rate. Ex: If the nominal interest rate is 7% and the inflation rate is 4%, then the real interest rate is 3%.

If a central bank is going to think about monetary policy in the (unfortunately roundabout, IMHO) interest rate way, it’s important to make sure that it’s adjusting the real interest rate in the right direction in response to events. Thus it is a truth universally acknowledged that a zombie in possession of brains must be in want of more brains. I mean, it is a truth universally acknowledged that when inflation rises, the nominal interest rate must rise even more, to make sure the real interest rate rises. (This called the Taylor Principle.) Fed policy over the last 8 months or so has not been respecting this principle, which everyone at the Fed is aware of. The reason for this is…?

(B) Fiat money. “Fiat” means force. Fiat money is supported by force because e.g. if you don’t want to pay your taxes in dollars the IRS guys won’t be amused, and legal compulsion will enter the situation. Try to pay your taxes next year in Doritos or fish heads; observe results.

(C) “The Fed’s balance sheet.” When the Fed buys Treasury bonds or other kinds of securities it holds them on its balance sheet. The dollar-denominated reserves that the Fed created to buy those securities are booked as a liability on its balance sheet. (Though they’re not really a liability in any economically meaningful sense.) For this reason, when the Fed creates money, the gross size of its balance sheet grows. The net size doesn’t change, since newly-acquired assets (T bonds or whatever) are matched by an equal amount of newly-created liabilities (electronic reserves). My point being: When finance-y people say “The Fed’s balance sheet has grown” they’re saying, rather obliquely, “The Fed has been printing money.”

Red Pill in Fiction, Classics Edition: Milton’s Paradise Lost

John Milton’s Paradise Lost was first published in 1667. It is a rewarding work for several reasons. Milton’s writing is captivatingly vivid and imaginative. E.g. there’s a scene in Hell in which Satan, approaching Hell’s gates, has his path blocked by Death. They square off, and you can practically smell the thunderclouds gathering. And Milton’s descriptions of Eden are lush, as lush as Eden itself.

Another interesting element of this work: I’d always thought that beginning a work of literature or theatre in media res was a peculiarly modern practice. But Paradise Lost opens with Lucifer and the other fallen angels picking themselves up and dusting themselves off in Hell. Only much later do we get a flashback to the battle in Heaven that ends with them being cast down into Hell.

Because the language is three and a half centuries old, I have benefitted from reading an annotated edition, with the annotations at the bottom of each page so one needn’t flip back and forth to get at them. I recommend such to anyone who plans on reading this classic.

But enough preliminaries. This is a Red Pill in Fiction post. Our focus will be the passages in which Eve, and then Adam, are tempted into sin. This whole section of Paradise Lost draws out and makes explicit certain features of female psychology that are present but less explicit in the Bible. Back in the 1600s there were a lot fewer delusions about women in the cultural air.

(1) Milton knew about the female rationalization hamster. The setup: Satan is lurking around the Garden of Eden to tempt Adam and Eve into sin. God, aware of this, sends the angel Raphael to warn them. Raphael describes the War in Heaven to Adam and Eve, establishing Satan’s evil, then basically says, “That demon is coming to tempt you into sin. Don’t fall for his wiles.”

Eve’s hamster kicks into high gear the moment she learns that Satan is on the loose. She hamsterbates wildly, spewing a bunch of sophistry to convince Adam to let her wander off when she knows there’s an evil man in the area.

After Raphael has departed, Eve: Adam hon, we’ve got a lot of work to do, pruning all these plants and whatnot as God has ordered us, so

“Let us divide our labours; thou, where choice
Leads thee, or where most needs, whether to wind
The woodbine round this arbour, or direct
The clasping ivy where to climb; while I,
In yonder spring of roses intermixed
With myrtle, find what to redress till noon:
For, while so near each other thus all day
Our task we choose, what wonder if so near
Looks intervene and smiles, or object new
Casual discourse draw on; which intermits
Our day’s work…”

We wouldn’t want to hang around near each other; we might be tempted to interrupt the work God has assigned to us!

Adam: Aw, babe, God hasn’t told us that we can never talk or snuggle-boo! He created us to enjoy life. And besides, this Garden is never really going to be in control until we have more hands to help us out, if you know what I mean. Nevertheless…

“to short absence I could yield:
For solitude sometimes is best society,
And short retirement urges sweet return.
But other doubt possesses me, lest harm
Befall thee severed from me; for thou knowest
What hath been warned us, what malicious foe
Envying our happiness, and of his own
Despairing, seeks to work us woe and shame
By sly assault; and somewhere nigh at hand
Watches, no doubt, with greedy hope to find
His wish and best advantage, us asunder;
Hopeless to circumvent us joined, where each
To other speedy aid might lend at need:
Whether his first design be to withdraw
Our fealty from God, or to disturb
Conjugal love, than which perhaps no bliss
Enjoyed by us excites his envy more;
Or this, or worse, leave not the faithful side
That gave thee being, still shades thee, and protects.
The wife, where danger or dishonour lurks,
Safest and seemliest by her husband stays,
Who guards her, or with her the worst endures.”


“that thou shouldst my firmness therefore doubt
To God or thee, because we have a foe
May tempt it, I expected not to hear.
His violence thou fearest not, being such
As we, not capable of death or pain,
Can either not receive, or can repel.
His fraud is then thy fear; which plain infers
Thy equal fear, that my firm faith and love
Can by his fraud be shaken or seduced;
Thoughts, which how found they harbour in thy breast,
Adam, mis-thought of her to thee so dear?”

In short, “Don’t you trust me? I’m hurt!” This is the kind of thing you get in field reports on long-term-relationship Game blogs today. Not only is female nature the same, even the particular bullshit arguments and emotional manipulations are the same, as back in Milton’s day.

Adam at this point should say, “There’s a dangerous being about; you’re staying with me, discussion over.” But instead he’s like, “Babe, it’s not that I doubt you; it’s just that the very fact that he might try to tempt your virtue would be an insult to you. He wouldn’t dare try it if I’m around, so stay with me.” Notice he’s trying to reason with her, and he’s also showing weakness. She knows quite well he doesn’t trust her— and as events show he’s damn well right not to— but by showing himself afraid to lay down the law, he earns her contempt and makes the situation worse.

Her response is— surprise!— more hamsterbating rationalizations about why she should wander off alone:

“If this be our condition, thus to dwell
In narrow circuit straitened by a foe…
How are we happy, still in fear of harm?
But harm precedes not sin: only our foe,
Tempting, affronts us with his foul esteem
Of our integrity: his foul esteem
Sticks no dishonour on our front, but turns
Foul on himself; then wherefore shunned or feared
By us? who rather double honour gain
From his surmise proved false…
And what is faith, love, virtue, unassayed
Alone, without exteriour help sustained?”

She really wants to jet off and find the bad boy. If I were Adam, what I’d be learning about my wife in this conversation would totally change how I see her, and not for the better.

Adam: Babe, look: God Himself made us, so we basically already know we’re pretty much perfect. We don’t need to test that. But also, he did give us free will, which could be an entry point for some subtle sophistry of the enemy…

“…Not then mistrust, but tender love, enjoins,
That I should mind thee oft; and mind thou me.
Firm we subsist, yet possible to swerve;
Since Reason not impossibly may meet
Some specious object by the foe suborned,
And fall into deception unaware,
Not keeping strictest watch, as she was warned.
Seek not temptation then, which to avoid
Were better, and most likely if from me
Thou sever not: Trial will come unsought.
Wouldst thou approve thy constancy, approve
First thy obedience; the other who can know,
Not seeing thee attempted, who attest?”

If only he’d stopped there. But he continues:

“But, if thou think, trial unsought may find
Us both securer than thus warned thou seemest,
Go; for thy stay, not free, absents thee more;
Go in thy native innocence, rely
On what thou hast of virtue; summon all!”


“With thy permission then, and thus forewarned
Chiefly by what thy own last reasoning words
Touched only; that our trial, when least sought,
May find us both perhaps far less prepared,
The willinger I go, nor much expect
A foe so proud will first the weaker seek;
So bent, the more shall shame him his repulse.”

Yadda yadda, hamsterbate hamsterbate, see ya later! Now where’s that lawless rebel bad boy?! Whoops, goodness, I almost slipped and fell! Some slick substance is coming out of that hole between my legs and running down my leg. I wonder why? How strange!

(2) Lucifer’s corrupting of Eve is almost explicitly sexual. The whole scene reeks of seduction. It is very much the bad bad man seducing a woman away from her nice-guy boyfriend/husband.

It starts with… peacocking! Satan, having possessed the serpent:

“toward Eve
Addressed his way: not with indented wave,
Prone on the ground, as since; but on his rear,
Circular base of rising folds, that towered
Fold above fold, a surging maze! his head
Crested aloft, and carbuncle his eyes;
With burnished neck of verdant gold, erect
Amidst his circling spires, that on the grass
Floated redundant: pleasing was his shape
And lovely”

When he sees that Eve has noticed him he lays on some flattery about how goddess-level beautiful she is. Should’ve opened with a neg, but I guess Milton wasn’t that much of a playah. Eve expresses surprise that the snake can talk all of a sudden, and he’s like, “Oh yeah, it was the weirdest thing! I just ate some fruit from this one tree and suddenly I became like so much smarter and wiser! Isn’t that cool?!”

You’d think Eve would catch on at this point— she and Adam have been warned about a particular tree— but she doesn’t, or tells herself that she doesn’t.

Here’s part of Satan-as-the-Serpent’s patter:

“I chanced
A goodly tree far distant to behold
Loaden with fruit of fairest colours mixed,
Ruddy and gold: I nearer drew to gaze;
When from the boughs a savoury odour blown,
Grateful to appetite, more pleased my sense
Than smell of sweetest fennel, or the teats
Of ewe or goat dropping with milk at even,
Unsucked of lamb or kid, that tend their play.
To satisfy the sharp desire I had
Of tasting those fair apples, I resolved…”

There are a lot of double meanings in Paradise Lost (again, get an annotated edition to pick up on it). As one commentator has noted, the language in it is “unceasingly active.” With that in mind, note the double-entendre in the reference to teats dripping with milk, and then “To satisfy the sharp desire I had
Of tasting those fair apples…”

This juxtaposition is almost certainly not an accident, and it brings the sexual element of Satan’s tempting of Eve to the forefront.

Serpent: “About the mossy trunk I wound me soon.” I know I have a dirty mind, but this also strikes me as sexual; he’s physically taking possession of the tree. I mean, why is he even telling Eve this detail?

And recall the word “erect” describing the serpent earlier, when he first appears in Eve’s view, and note it’s emphasized by being placed at the end of its line.

Eve, who doesn’t know which tree the serpent is referring to, says, “Lead me there.” He does, and she’s like, “Oh, too bad; this is the one tree that God told us we can’t eat from.” Satan lays some sophistry on her: “Come on, you know you wanna; live a little!” When he’s done making his case:

“He ended; and his words, replete with guile,
Into her heart too easy entrance won”

The serpent (who is a big long tube of muscle) easily gets into Eve. It’s too easy to read this in Beavis-and-Butthead voice. But seriously: of all the animals that could have seduced a female into bad behavior, it just happens to be the one that’s unmistakably phallic? No, the sexual element is definitely there. Of course it’s there in Genesis to begin with, but Milton took it and ran with it.

Anyway, the serpent’s bullshit just kick-starts the temptation process. The real work is done by Eve herself, who becomes one with her rationalization hamster at this point:

“ ‘Great are thy virtues, doubtless, best of fruits,
Though kept from man, and worthy to be admired;
Whose taste, too long forborn, at first assay
Gave elocution to the mute, and taught
The tongue not made for speech to speak thy praise:
Thy praise he also, who forbids thy use,
Conceals not from us, naming thee the tree
Of knowledge, knowledge both of good and evil;
Forbids us then to taste! but his forbidding
Commends thee more, while it infers the good
By thee communicated, and our want:
For good unknown sure is not had; or, had
And yet unknown, is as not had at all.
In plain then, what forbids he but to know,
Forbids us good, forbids us to be wise,
Such prohibitions bind not. But, if death
Bind us with after-bands, what profits then
Our inward freedom? In the day we eat
Of this fair fruit, our doom is, we shall die!
How dies the Serpent? he hath eaten and lives,
And knows, and speaks, and reasons, and discerns,
Irrational till then. For us alone
Was death invented? or to us denied
This intellectual food, for beasts reserved?
For beasts it seems: yet that one beast which first
Hath tasted envies not, but brings with joy
The good befallen him, author unsuspect,
Friendly to man, far from deceit or guile.
What fear I then? rather, what know to fear
Under this ignorance of good and evil,
Of God or death, of law or penalty?
Here grows the cure of all, this fruit divine,
Fair to the eye, inviting to the taste,
Of virtue to make wise: What hinders then
To reach, and feed at once both body and mind?’
So saying, her rash hand in evil hour
Forth reaching to the fruit, she plucked, she eat!”

Intent now wholly on her taste, nought else
Regarded; such delight till then, as seemed,
In fruit she never tasted, whether true
Or fancied so, through expectation high
Of knowledge; not was Godhead from her thought.
Greedily she ingorged without restraint,
And knew not eating death…”

(3) After the damage is done, Eve tells Adam that he should have resisted her wiles more. “How dare you not stop me from doing what I did!” What a twat.


“Would thou hadst hearkened to my words, and stayed
With me, as I besought thee, when that strange
Desire of wandering, this unhappy morn,
I know not whence possessed thee; we had then
Remained still happy; not, as now, despoiled
Of all our good; shamed, naked, miserable!
Let none henceforth seek needless cause to approve
The faith they owe; when earnestly they seek
Such proof, conclude, they then begin to fail.”

Eve refuses to take responsibility and blames him:

“What words have passed thy lips, Adam severe!
Imputest thou that to my default, or will
Of wandering, as thou callest it, which who knows
But might as ill have happened thou being by,
Or to thyself perhaps?…
Was I to have never parted from thy side?
As good have grown there still a lifeless rib.
Being as I am, why didst not thou, the head,
Command me absolutely not to go,
Going into such danger, as thou saidst?”

Fuck you, bitch! Aargh, this pisses me off. She tries every argument she can muster to get away by herself, then commits a sin, then blames him for not stopping her! Grrr!

She continues:

“Too facile then, thou didst not much gainsay;
Nay, didst permit, approve, and fair dismiss.
Hadst thou been firm and fixed in thy dissent,
Neither had I transgressed, nor thou with me.”

“Sure, I sinned, but it’s your fault for not stopping me!” Bitch!


“I thought
No evil durst attempt thee; but I rue
The errour now, which is become my crime,
And thou the accuser. Thus it shall befall
Him, who, to worth in women overtrusting,
Lets her will rule: restraint she will not brook;
And, left to herself, if evil thence ensue,
She first his weak indulgence will accuse.”

(4) God’s judgment on Adam and Eve in Eden contains a lot of red pill ideas. By the way, in Paradise Lost it is not God but Jesus who descends from Heaven to judge Adam and Eve. This is bizarrely contra-textual: Genesis is very clear that it’s God. I have no idea what Milton thought he was doing here. I seem to remember some theological controversy about whether or not Jesus always existed in Heaven before he was born on Earth. I’ll leave that one to theologians. Milton’s position on that is quite clear, since the judging of Adam and Eve is preceded by pages of text of Jesus in Heaven, first being introduced by God to the angels, then kicking Satan’s ass out of Heaven during the War in Heaven, then talking with God about how to handle Adam and Eve. I’m going to un-do Milton’s weird ret-conning and correctly portray the judge as God.

Adam to God: “Uh, the woman tempted me, yeah, some commands were disobeyed, some forbidden fruits were eaten…”

God to Adam:

“Was she thy God, that her thou didst obey
Before his voice? or was she made thy guide,
Superiour, or but equal, that to her
Thou didst resign thy manhood, and the place
Wherein God set thee above her made of thee,
And for thee, whose perfection far excelled
Hers in all real dignity? Adorned
She was indeed, and lovely, to attract
Thy love, not thy subjection; and her gifts
Were such, as under government well seemed;
Unseemly to bear rule; which was thy part
And person, hadst thou known thyself aright.”

And after rebuking Eve, back to Adam:

“Because thou hast hearkened to the voice of thy wife,
And eaten of the tree, concerning which
I charged thee, saying, Thou shalt not eat thereof:
Cursed is the ground for thy sake; thou in sorrow
Shalt eat thereof, all the days of thy life…”

God: You are banned from this Garden; by the sweat of thy brow thou will earn thy bread.

Adam: Can we get our hands stamped so we can get back in later?

God: NO!! You’re banned forever. And I’m setting up a bouncer at the eastern door that’s a giant sword that turns every which way. And thou, Eve, will suffer tribulations of child-rearing.

Eve: Whatever, how bad can it be? OW, fucking Legos! Damn, these things are sharp. If we had shoes instead of being naked…

God: Very well, here are some animal skins you may use as raiments.

Eve: Thanks. Now we’ll just be on our way. Oh, DAMN IT, what a mess! Spill-proof child cup, my ass!

God: Take off. And don’t touch my stuff ever again. I foresee that the next person who tries that will be many centuries in the future, with a forbidden ark, and I’m gonna melt his face off like a wax candle in a microwave.

(5) Vox Day’s “Women ruin everything,” John Milton style. After sentence has been passed and God has returned to Heaven, Adam addresses Eve. Regarding the first line of this next passage, my edition notes that when Milton wrote, the name Eve was thought to be etymologically related to the Hebrew word for “serpent”:

“Out of my sight, thou Serpent! That name best
Befits thee with him leagued, thyself as false
And hateful; nothing wants, but that thy shape,
Like his, and colour serpentine, may show
Thy inward fraud; to warn all creatures from thee
Henceforth; lest that too heavenly form, pretended
To hellish falsehood, snare them! But for thee
I had persisted happy; had not thy pride
And wandering vanity, when least was safe,
Rejected my forewarning, and disdained
Not to be trusted; longing to be seen,
Though by the Devil himself.

And more that shall befall; innumerable
Disturbances on earth through female snares,
And strait conjunction with this sex: for either
He never shall find out fit mate…
Or whom he wishes most shall seldom gain
Through her perverseness, but shall see her gained
By a far worse…”

The preface to my edition mentions that feminists don’t like Milton, for some reason.

Well, there it is. Pretty based on the red-pill stuff, and I haven’t even given you all of it.

But most of this work is not about chicks; it’s about religion. It has war between good and evil, excellent descriptions of various locations (Hell, Eden, etc.), love, sin, death, pride, promised redemption, a fuck-ton of allusions to Greek myths (if you like that sort of thing) and of course the Bible, and some very vivid, hard-core descriptions of monsters, gods, and devils. As just one example, here’s Milton’s take on Sin: She looks like a beautiful woman from the waist up but from the waist down she’s a bunch of snakes. Dogs erupt from her womb hourly, run around, then climb back inside her and gnaw at her internal organs until they’re all eaten up, then they burst forth again and the cycle repeats. Yikes.

Definitely recommended.

Beavis: Hey Butthead, the book she’s reading to me has a naked chick and a talking snake! Butthead: Cool!

Index page for my Red Pill in Fiction posts (or just see the top of this page):

Miscellany 29: Hook me up with a kilo of Miscellany. Better make it two kilos; I’m having a party this weekend

(1) In the interest of elevating the tone of the discussion around here:


Key sciency finding: US women have the biggest tits in the world. USA! USA! USA!

(Pauses to wipe away a tear of patriotic feeling.)

Excellent sentence from an article that he quotes:

“An unusually large number of inflationary forces are converging on bras…”

Yeah baby!

(2) There recently was some discussion about how powerful Elon Musk is, what constitutes power, and the Riddle of Steel.

In that light: Here’s an (edited) excerpt from Illuminatus! by Shea and Wilson (pages 62-3 in the 1988 omnibus edition). Simon Moon, an Irish kid in the mid-20th century, is the son of two anarchist parents. His mother is more of a hippy type and his father is one of those hard-nosed “Organize, boys!”-type leftist anarchists. His parents frequently have political arguments. Simon:

I got stoned one night and went home to see what it would be like relating to Mom and Dad in that condition… Tolstoy coming out of her mouth, Bakunin out of his. Two dead Russians debating with each other, long after they were dead and buried, out of the mouths of a pair of Chicago Irish radicals.

“You’re both wrong,” I said. “Freedom won’t come through Love, and it won’t come through Force. It will come through the Imagination.” I put in all the capital letters and I was so stoned that they got contact-high and heard them, too. Their mouths dropped open.

Dad was the first to recover. “Imagination,” he said, his big red face crinkling in that grin that always drove the cops crazy when they were arresting him. “That’s what comes of sending good working-class boys to rich people’s colleges. When you were in that jail in Mississippi you imagined yourself through the walls, didn’t you? How many times an hour did you imagine yourself through the walls? I can guess. The first time I was arrested, I walked through those walls a million times. But every time I opened my eyes, the walls and the bars were still there. What got me out finally? What got you out of Biloxi finally? Organization. If you want big words to talk to intellectuals, that’s a fine big word, son, just as many syllables as imagination, and it has a lot more realism in it.”

The scene ends there, but what Simon should have said is, “If you could change how those cops imagine the world in the right way, they wouldn’t have put you in jail in the first place.”

If we want large numbers of men to coordinate the use of violence to enforce certain norms, we must have an ideology that facilitates cooperation. Incentives are helpful and indeed necessary, but incentives with an ideology that has moral/ethical components is even better. One might even call that a religion. And if this ideology is coordinating the reigning use of force in society— or if its adherents aspire that it eventually do so— one might even call it a state religion.

You must bring a gun to a gun fight and a religion to a holy war.

(3) A related point: It’s not enough to have a religion that will help you kick demonic sociopaths out of power. You must also make plans for maintaining your religion’s integrity over the years and centuries. Infiltration, or entryism, is one of our enemy’s most effective methods of subversion.

Thus Aidan at

“The clockwork regularity with which absolutists farm out government to a cabal of bureaucrats and professors, lose memetic sovereignty a generation later, and lose their heads a generation after that, never ceases to impress me.”

(4) The upcoming civil wars in the western world  should be called the Collective Guilt Wars. That way, in the post war era, no one will ever again be able to try the collective guilt trick; trying it will instantly identify them as that era’s equivalent of a “Nazi.”

(5) Babylon Bee:

Report: More Unborn Babies In New York Identifying As Convicted Criminals So They Can’t Legally Be Executed.

(6) I recently found Wrath of Gnon (in the sidebar at A Mari Usque Ad Mare).

Wrath of Gnon quotes Hayek:

“Tradition is not something constant but the product of a process of selection guided not by reason but by success. It changes but can rarely be deliberately changed. Cultural selection is not a rational process.”

(7) “Wulfgar Thundercock III” at

“Solopsism and other related Gnostic philosophies ought to be responded to by punching the philosopher in the balls until he accepts that you did not actually punch him in the balls and it is just the illusion of his senses.”