Tuesday, 1 January 2013
Happy new year, and self-improvement.
Happy new year, folks.
I was listening to Aurini (a reactionary, or alt-right if you will) the other day, on his various views on the MRM and MGTOW, and while I won't comment on the former I do think that his view on the latter is a tad lopsided. I won't deny that there are bound to be some MGTOWs who do nothing but whine about the system and sit in basements all day to play World of Warcraft because it's the easy way out for them, and yet even a guest on Lunatic Fringe Radio (episode 10) admitted that it's the only rational course of action left to men these days.
(Edit: I just watched through another of his videos. Seems like he makes the distinction between MGTOWs who eat cheetos and the "herd of bulls" as he puts it.)
Most people are strange political animals (at least, I'd like to believe that) and political labels are a generalisation at best. Personally, I buy into ideas from all four subsections of the red-pill world based on how much truth there is in there and the relevance and utility of the information to me. As evidenced from my post about my uncle, I'm receptive to some of the ideas the alt-right is putting out (and their warnings about the coming global SHTF), and yet am MGTOW by necessity. Both MGTOW and PUA point out realities about how people work, realities that've been smothered under the blanket of political correctness. The MRM is the most vocal in the frontlines of fighting the matrix.
I know a lot of what I've been saying of late could be construed as whining, and probably is. Still, I suppose getting things off my chest is one step on the path of moving forward, and there is the need to point matters out to others, which is why I came up with my MGTOW piece.
But being a MGTOW doesn't necessarily mean letting yourself go and turning into Jabba the Hutt, surrounded by cheese stains and porn magazines. It just means that any self-improvement you do, you do it on your own terms, at your own wishes, and not for anyone else; as Hobbes once said to Calvin: "It counts as fun if you do it of your own free will." Making the decision to go MGTOW didn't mean I stopped my gym routine; I still remember my fat bastard days and love having all the extra energy and stamina to do whatever I want. To be honest, not being a fat bastard is a secondary benefit to all the extra energy.
Well, what can I do with all this energy? Off the top of my head, in my life, I've learnt the skills required to:
*Design a separation column to split up crude oil into its fractions.
*Make a general approximation as to how to best extract a product from a biotransformation. (Distilling ethanol, for a very simple example.)
*Build a computer from parts.
*Fix and replace, if not build, a bicycle chain, brakes and tyre. (Bicycles will be much more important in this part of the world when SHTF. Both because the gas pumps might run dry, and because bicycles are much better suited to the local jungle tracks than automobiles are. Just ask the Japanese - they made it down both coasts of Malaya in record time.)
*Load, fire and maintain a tripod-mounted machine gun. (From my conscript days.)
*Cook a passable meal via boiling or stir-frying. (Soup's next. And not from a can.)
*Scale and gut a fish, and all about identifying fresh fish. (You live on an island, you don't eat seafood, something's wrong with you.)
*Roughly sew back on buttons and patch up clothes. (This, admittedly, is still in progress.)
*Understand some basic tenets of agriculture. (Thanks to my grandmother's tales and a childhood fascination with green beans.)
*Write a novel.
Now, if everything collapses there might not be enough to go around for people to build an actual distillation tower to make crude into gas and diesel and tar, but I'm sure there'll be plenty of people around with their bicycles and going "what do?" when the tyres get bent out of shape, since one can't take it to the shop and get it fixed. Either that, or maybe I can cook up a still out of some glassware lying around and see what I can do - what I get out of distilling spirits might not be as good as proper medicinal alcohol, but it'll sure beat the hell out of boiling wine. The point is that all of these are marketable skills; I feel fairly comfortable not being a "useless eater" if it all starts going to pot, and will have a skill I can hand in for barter - be it fixing up a community's only remaining computer or mending a bike with scavenged parts.
Make a list. If it all came crashing down tomorrow, what skills would you be able to offer your loved ones, your community? What can you bring to the table?
Being an MGTOW doesn't mean you have to be a degenerate or reject completely some tenets of traditional masculinity. Unlike the Old Deal, what I believe the difference is that you need is to be discerning as to who gets to benefit from it. As I rediscover in baby steps the masculinity that was beaten out of me, what I learned as a MGTOW helps me decide who, man or woman, is effectively deserving of the benefits of my masculinity, and to what extent. Once, this was freely given to all women as a matter of course; now it's a huge, fine-pored filter to sift out all the undeserving. I will do it on my terms and at my will, not because I "should" or "society expects me to" or "it's polite".
Look back at the sinking of the Concordia and the outrage that the men weren't willing to automatically value their lives as beneath that of a woman's. Who were the women whom the men did help? Wives, mothers, sisters, daughters, so on and so forth - women who meant something to the men who shielded them in their time of need. The rest went and choked on the bitter taste of the "ekualitee" they so claimed to desire.
Whom would I share the benefits of my masculinity with? My mother, my father. My friends. I am not so sure about my siblings. But the point here is that as an MGTOW, I get to call the shots. I will not be shamed into laying myself down for anyone whom I do not feel obligated to. After all, it was not me who broke the Old Deal, and the New Deal may not be so palatable to some.
To which I say, fuck off.