I got a short email the other week that contained a Youtube clip. I was ready to watch it for a few seconds before moving on, but I became mesmerized at what I saw. I viewed it just not just once but two additional times, and every couple of days since. Here it is…
Pretty but not plastic, flirtatious but not easy, wholesome but not prudish, feminine but not artificial, serious but not angry, energetic but not grating, natural but not boring, thin and curvy and provocative without tattoos, stretched ear lobes, and shaved haircuts.
Nostalgia for the past is rejection of the present. It’s a sign you’re unable to cope with change and the inevitability of progress, for nothing in the world remains static. It’s very possible that had we all lived in 1969, we would have ached for another era, but I can unequivocally state that I would be happier if I had access to the women in the music video. I can also state that you would also have been happier. No 50 Shades obsessed slut can begin to compete with a woman who can give an abundance of value besides the hole between her legs.
I say this knowing that women from the past were not easy. I know I could not have banged them on the same night. I know that I would have had to invest in them and to reason with their parents to approve of me. These are things that I would—then or now—eagerly do in order to have quality that is simply becoming too hard to find in the country that America has become. It’s a strange thing, if you think about it, that if today is the easiest time to have sex, why are men still discontent? Why isn’t sex on demand with fuck buddies making us happy? Why do we complain about sluts, iPhones, Facebook, and the like, tools which have no doubt increased our notch count? Why is there a nagging feeling in the back our mind that something isn’t right?
The reason is because quantity of sex is only one factor in constituting the happiness of a man, and it’s not a very strong one. Considering that you are awake for over 100 hours a week, how much of that is actually ideal to be spent engaged in sex thrusting? Even if it was a super-human ten hours a week, quantity without accompanying quality pleases a man far less than quality without quantity. I’ve had sex with many feminine women in Eastern Europe, and I can assure you that sleeping with just one of them surpasses sleeping with ten American or Scandinavian sluts who let me smash within the second hour of meeting them.
Quantity will never trump quality, and quality is simply what we lack today in America. We have easier women who are women in genetics only, who can’t even compare with what has awed me in a grainy music video. The women of America today are not feminine, pleasing, sensual, or even interesting, no matter how many marketing and women’s studies classes they’ve taken. They are vaginas, existing solely for an alcohol-fueled pump that is wholly separate from emotion or human feeling. The sad part is that multitudes of men today are clawing at each other, cockblocking each other, putting their own gender on the chopping block and white knighting against their neighbor for a mere chance at the beasts that our culture has produced. We’ve sold out our own kind for a new type of woman that is shamefully clueless on how to please men.
What do we gain in intimacy with the modern American woman? What benefit is added to our character for learning how to jump through hoops for surreal porn sex with a girl who has been brainwashed to believe that women should no longer act like women and that you are the enemy? Choking her and calling her a slut in bed is no different than entertaining yourself with an action movie that is not even worth a second viewing, and every time you do so, thinking that making her gag on your cock is what makes you content, you have unwittingly plugged yourself into the feminist matrix. You strengthen their cause as you dehumanize sex and make it meaningless and insignificant, well removed from its biological and bonding purposes. I must admit that I have done more than my share in helping feminism by increasing the dating options of average girls as I send hordes of men to approach them in the bar and club. Am I not the ultimate traitor to my gender if the result of my work raises the collective ego of low quality women, making them all feel like they’re the princess of the ball? Am I not making it harder for a man of an average station to get his slice of the pie?
If today is the best time for women in terms of having freedom to do whatever they want while simultaneously controlling the behavior of men via misandric protests and laws, then it can not also be the best time for men, for gender balance is a zero sum affair where the gains of one is the decline of the other. No, the best time for men, in terms of fulfillment with women, has long since passed, and all we can do today—in fact, what we are forced to do today—is to go against our nature and be aloof players and approach robots in order to get sexual intercourse, a very basic feature of human life since time eternal, in between grinding away our lives in front of glowing computer screens and smartphones as we make our masters proud, hoping to feel just 1% of the masculinity that men of the past felt.
When I watched that music video, I initially felt happiness that there was a time in America where women were my ideal, but then I felt sadness for everything it has lost, for everything that we will never get back again, and it all makes complete sense why I’ve rejected my own country. It makes sense why I’ve spent so much time in South America and Eastern Europe, especially the latter, where women of that video can still be found right in the supermarket, the cafe, the town square, the bookstore, the nightclub, and the shopping mall just a quarter mile away from where I write this, and my sadness moves away from my own bizarre fate to those men who aren’t that different from me, still stuck in America, suffering gladly because of ignorance and manipulation. I hope they realize what I’ve realized and have the ability to choose as I have, and one day when they’re on an airplane flying from their homeland, they can look down through the clouds and say God Bless America for the greatness it has achieved in its short existence, yet accept what I’ve long since accepted, that America was once great for men, but no more.
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