Sunday, January 28, 2024
So, why did I bother with this classic, and is it a classic? Given what we know about his personal life, Douglas would have identified as a sexualist or a MAP or both like I do if he had been alive today. That is why I wanted to give him a chance. I like to test the merits of an old sexualist on his word rather than his reputation. He was a weed even in his own time, once (in 1937) having to flee Florence on allegations he “raped” a 10-year-old girl, so it’s quite possible he never attained the literary estimation he deserves. Let us get directly to the sex via the character whom all the men in the novel adore:
He worshipped from afar. He would have liked to worship from a little nearer, but did not know how to set about it; he was afraid of troubling what he called her innocence. Hitherto he had scored no great success. Angelina, aged fifteen, with the figure of a fairy, a glowing complexion, and a rich southern voice, was perfectly aware of his idealistic sentiments. She responded to the extent of gazing at him, now and then, in a most disconcerting fashion. It was as though she cared little about idealism. She did not smile. There was neither love nor disdain in that gaze; it was neither hot nor cold, nor yet lukewarm; it was something else, something he did not want at all—something that made him feel childish and uncomfortable…. And another pair of eyes were watching all the time, her sinuous movements—those of Mr. Edgar Marten. This young scientist, too, cherished loving thoughts about Angelina, thoughts of a more earthly and volcanic tinge; certain definite projects which made him forget, at times, his preoccupation with biotite, perlite, magnetite, anorthite, and pyroxene.
Yeah, that is beautiful. Another sexy passage I just have to quote:
The capacity of an English girl for coming to the point will take some beating. She paralyses you with directness. I will tell you a true story. There was a young Italian whom I knew—yes, I knew him well. He had just arrived in London; very handsome in the face, though perhaps a little too fat. He fell in love with an elegant young lady who was employed in the establishment of Madame Elise in Bond Street. He used to wait for her to come out at six o'clock and follow her like a dog, not daring to speak. He carried a costly bracelet for her in his pocket, and every day fresh flowers, which he was always too shy and too deeply enamoured to present. She was his angel, his ideal. He dreamt of her by day and night, wondering whether he would ever have the courage to address so tall and queenly a creature. It was his first English love affair, you understand; he learnt the proper technique later on. For five or six weeks this unhappy state of things continued, till one day, when he was running after her as usual, she turned round furiously and said: 'What do you mean, sir, by following me about it this disgusting fashion? How day you? I shall call the police, if it occurs again.' He was deprived of speech at first: he could only gaze in what you call dumb amazement. Then he managed to stammer out something about his heart and his love, and to show her the flowers and the bracelet. She said: 'So that's it, is it? Well of all the funny boys. Why couldn't you speak up sooner? D'you know of a place round here—'"
That's my experience with English girls too and I love them for it. It gets even better:
“Chastity be blowed. It's an unclean state of affairs, and dangerous to the community. You can’t call yourself a good citizen till you have learnt to despise it from the bottom of your heart. It’s an insult to the Creator and an abomination to man and beast.”
This, I think, is Norman Douglas speaking to us as a sexualist and the heart of his philosophy. But I must say one does not read this book as a sort of erotic story, and certainly not pornographic. It is also not really a discussion of sexual ethics. I waited in vain for any sort of sustained discourse of that nature to pop up. Nonetheless, there are tidbits. There is a character called Mr. van Koppen who is just like Geoffrey Epstein except he keeps the girls on a yacht named The Flutterby rather than Lolita Island and he hoards them all for himself. Whatever discussion occurs of sexual ethics coalesces around this figure:
“Ah yes,” replied Mr. Heard. “I wondered, supposing these reports about the ladies are true, how far you and I, for example, should condone his vices.” […]
“How would you like to be haled before a Court of law for some ridiculous trifle, which became a crime only because it used to be a sin, and became a sin only because some dyspeptic old antediluvian was envious of his neighbour’s pleasure? Our statute-book reeks of discarded theories of conduct; the serpent’s trail of the theologian, of the reactionary, is over all.” [...]
“That is how I feel—expanding, and taking on other tints. New problems, new influences, are at work upon me. It is as if I needed altogether fresh standards. Sometimes I feel almost ashamed—”
“Ashamed? My dear Heard, this will never do. You must take a blue pill when we get home.” [...]
Something new had insinuated itself into his blood, some demon of doubt and disquiet which threatened his old-established conceptions. Whence came it? The effect of changed environment—new friends, new food, new habits? The unaccustomed leisure which gave him, for the first time, a chance of thinking about non-professional matters? The south wind acting on his still weakened health? All these together? Or had he reached an epoch in his development, the termination of one of those definite life—periods when all men worthy of the name pass through some cleansing process of spiritual desquamation, and slip their outworn weeds of thought and feeling? […]
In the first place it was a singular fact, much commented on, that nobody had ever been invited on board the yacht. That alone was suspicious. IF YOU WANT TO GET ANYTHING OUT OF OLD KOPPEN—so ran a local saying—DON'T PROPOSE A VISIT TO THE FLUTTERBY. More curious still was the circumstance that nobody, save the owner and certain bearded venerables of the crew, had ever been known to land on the island. How about the other passengers? Who were they? The millionaire never so much as mentioned their existence. It was surmised, accordingly, that he voyaged over the seas with a bevy of light-hearted nymphs; a disreputable mode of conduct for a man of his advanced years, and all the more aggravating to other people since, like a crafty and jealous old sultan, he screened them from public view. Impropriety could be overlooked—it could pass, where a millionaire was concerned, under the heading of unconventionality; but such glaring selfishness might end in being fatal to his reputation. […]
And then—the difference between himself and the millionaire in life, training, antecedents! A career such as van Koppen’s called for qualities different, often actually antagonistic, to his own. You could not possibly expect to find in a successful American merchant those features which go to form a successful English ecclesiastic. Certain human attributes were mutually exclusive—avarice and generosity, for instance; others no doubt mysteriously but inextricably intertwined. A man was an individual; he could not be divided or taken to pieces; he could not be expected to possess virtues incompatible with the rest of his mental equipment, however desirable such virtues might be. Who knows? Van Koppen's doubtful acts might be an unavoidable expression of his personality, an integral part of that nature under whose ferocious stimulus he had climbed to his present enviable position. And Mr. Heard was both shocked and amused to reflect that but for the co-operation of certain coarse organic impulses to which these Nepenthe legends testified, the millionaire might never have been able to acquire the proud title of “Saviour of his Country.” [...]
“That's queer,” he mused. “It never struck me before. Shows how careful one must be. Dear me! Perhaps the ladies have inevitable organic impulses of a corresponding kind. Decidedly queer. H’m. Ha. Now I wonder…. And perhaps, if the truth were known, these young persons are having quite a good time of it—”
He paused abruptly in his reflections. He had caught himself in the act; in the very act of condoning vice. Mr. Thomas Heard was seriously concerned.
Something was wrong, he concluded. He would never have argued on similar lines a short time ago. This downright sympathy with sinners, what did it portend? Did it betray a lapse from his old-established principles, a waning of his respect for traditional morality? Was he becoming a sinner himself? [...]
“Can it be the south wind?”
"Everybody blames the poor sirocco. I imagine you have long been maturing for this change, unbeknown to yourself. And what does it mean? Only that you are growing up. Nobody need be ashamed of growing up…. Here we are, at last!
Yes, here we are. We are communing with a real man, a sexualist, an antidote to the normies more so now than ever and a breath of fresh air. This is one reason to read this book, but it is not sufficient reason to read 500 pages. One must also enjoy the plot, the style, and the many characters who have little to do with sexualism. What can I say overall? Well, it was slow to get into. It was not like G.K. Chesterton’s masterpiece The Man Who Was Thursday -- also highly relevant to activism -- which I found suspenseful from the first page. But once I got into the South Wind, I can say I enjoyed this novel for all its literary qualities including a liberal sprinkling of humor throughout and good old classical learning which is so homely when you know Latin. It is a beautiful novel.
There is a character named Mr. Keith which for some reason reminds me of our commenter Jack here. He and others really come alive and their various musings are worth listening to. Correct me if this is not also your philosophy, Jack:
Money enables you to multiply your sensations—to travel about, and so forth. In doing so, you multiply your personality, as it were; you lengthen your days, figuratively speaking; you come in contact with more diversified aspects of life than a person of my limited means can afford to do. The body, you say, is a subtle instrument to be played upon in every variety of manner and rendered above all things as sensitive as possible to pleasurable impressions. In fact, you want to be a kind of Aeolian harp. I admit that this is more than a string of sophisms; you may call it a philosophy of life.
The setting, too, is beautiful. A fictional island called Nepenthe situated near Italy shines vividly in my imagination, not least through the brilliant device of Mr. Eames the annotator of a classical work about the island which is often quoted along with potential annotations to update us on how it developed until the present day. The south wind -- the sirocco -- which blows all summer is also an essential ingredient tying it all together. I learned later that Nepenthe has a real equivalent called Capri, but it works just as well as a complete fiction.
And all the characters have flaws which makes them so human, because although it gets over-the-top sometimes it is not far from the truth. Everybody cheats in some way, just like in real life, some in more harmful ways than others. I have to say that cheating the sexual norms like Norman Douglas himself did so much, and I do and we male sexualists and MAPs make our creed and ideology, is one of the more harmless ways to cheat social norms. There is, in addition to the Epstein clone, a forger of antique sculptures, a cruel Duke Ferdinand who used to rule the island (“his method of collecting taxes—a marvel of simplicity. Each citizen paid what he liked. If the sum proved insufficient he was apprised of the fact next morning by having his left hand amputated; a second error of judgment—it happened rather seldom—was rectified by the mutilation of the remaining member”), a drunkard lady who exposes the bad natures of those who profess to be concerned about her, a corrupt judge, the Bishop of Bampopo with an African perspective, a bunch of savage Russians including an illiterate Messiah figure, a murderess whom everyone including the reader excuses, a lawyer who is so immoral that he is moral…
He was profoundly convinced of the prisoner’s guilt. This was lucky for the young man. Had he thought otherwise he would probably have refused to take up the case. Don Giustino made a point of never defending innocent people. They were idiots who entangled themselves in the meshes of the law; they fully deserved their fate. Really to have murdered Muhlen was the one and only point in the prisoner’s favour. It made him worthy of his rhetorical efforts. All his clients were guilty, and all of them got off scot free. “I never defend people I can't respect,” he used to say.
This resonates with me. When I was charged with incitement in 2012, in all sincerity I was and am still the guiltiest man ever to be brought up on those charges since Vidkun Quisling, and that is precisely why I got away with it, because I am not messing around. Sometimes guilt is redemption, especially when one is honest to a fault, because the laws were not designed to catch an honest man and it is below the paygrade of a great lawyer to defend a man who is simply innocent.
Now I understand why Nabokov includes this figure in Lolita as a kindred spirit to MAPs or at least pederasts (Gaston Godin, Humbert's homosexual colleague at Beardsley College, has a photograph of Norman Douglas on his studio wall). Yes, Douglas was a boylover -- but he also says he deflowered 1100 virgins and South Wind is all about girls. It belongs on the MRA Archive and is thankfully out of copyright since it was first published in 1917. It is not a succinct work of activism by any means, but is a literary masterwork and spiritual food for our sexualist hearts. This is forceful writing which leaves me feeling uplifted both on its literary merits and because it offers some escape from the brainless, hateful, humorless, pedophobic antisex bigotry which consumes our present times, especially the Epstein hysteria which is so artfully mocked in the excerpts I have presented herein, proving once again that weeds don’t spoil. Indeed, Norman Douglas is fresher a hundred years later than he could have foreseen and even his normie characters are rebels now.
Wednesday, December 13, 2023
Harry's new home is:
This will take you to an index page with links to all his articles in alphabetical order, which can then be read much like they originally appeared. All his texts and illustrations are there but you have to go back to my index page to navigate between articles since internal links don't work. Whenever they link back to his old site the only content you will find is "Silence is golden," which indicates the current maintainer (possibly Paul Elam?) is purposefully suppressing Angry Harry's writings (which is not surprising given that Harry did not fall for the female sex offender charade unlike the frauds at A Voice for Men).
Fortunately I secured a copy before his articles were taken offline. Enjoy a real MRA!
I am going to list the links here too which all go to Harry's permanent home on the MRA Archive:
Thursday, November 09, 2023
Fast forward 42 years to 2023 and and see my discussion under my previous blog post on the case of Anne Nelson-Koch facing 600 years, prosecutors asking for 100 and her ultimately being sentenced to 10 for something even the law considers consensual in fact but is only criminalized because the boy was 14 rather than 16 at the time. How can something go from a non-issue, or rather a widely considered enjoyable experience if you disregard the woman’s old age in this case (remember, young teachers are subject to the same punishment), to worse than murder in my lifetime? Rest assured that my attitude has not changed since 1981. I still don’t think this is crimeworthy. But the normies apparently have no problems with this change, and I just want you to think about how profound that is.
There are broadly two possible explanations. Either women having sex with willing and most often eager teenage boys was always a heinous act but society didn’t realize it prior to the 1980s and I still don’t, or society went insane while pretty much I alone remained rational and sane. Well, I and Richard Hanania and Bill Maher and Bruce Rind and Newgon and a few others, but opposition is so thin that it rarely registers on the mainstream radar.
If the former explanation is correct, then female-perpetrated statutory rape is now in the same position as slavery was in 1900, something considered okay in the recent past which is now utterly condemned and heavily criminalized. It would certainly have to be as bad as slavery to be worth 100 years in prison. So then the question is, how can I be blind to the ethical badness of women statutorily raping boys if it really is so bad? Is it reasonable to postulate that I am so utterly handicapped, especially after spending close to 30 years thinking, reading and writing about the issue? I don’t think so, but I am leaving this explanation up here for completeness.
If the second explanation is correct, then people should listen up and snap out of their madness. Ponder that something women regularly do which wasn’t batted an eyelid at in 1980 is now practically a capital crime. If this change in attitudes and prosecutions happened for no good reason, the feminist movement should be all over it, surely? This means my blog has immense ethical value because I am one of the only ones even noticing that there is something wrong, that women are now subjected to a senseless witch-hunt as grotesque as any historical persecution except our methods of punishment are less torturous than burning witches.
It is also possible that the truth is somewhere in between. Maybe women are a little bit culpable for statutory rape but nowhere near deserving 100 years or 10 years. I reject this position because of the obvious positive value many boys get from such sex, and lack of traumatization credibly documented anywhere in putative victims, along with an evolutionary need-to-learn hypothesis to boot explaining why adolescent boys love to get sexual with older women, but if your position is they are nonetheless a little bit culpable you should still be able to see that the hysteria is way off the charts. Barring such an egregious moral position as slavery was in (and remember, the suffering of slaves was always known, so it can't possibly compare to boys enjoying sex), there is no way something can go from legal to potentially 600 years in prison without a spectacular overcorrection having happened.
When women face 600 years in prison for making love to boys and women are collectively serving thousands of years for such "crimes" as we speak, feminists do not give a damn. They are too busy whining about an unwanted kiss in the World Cup or some other triviality, but never noticing this systematic oppression with real, prolonged suffering except to cheer it on. It was feminists who got us into this mess with their false equality and sex-abuse panic. Something is horribly, profoundly wrong and it is ironic that it takes a reputed misogynist to speak out against the real misogyny.
Incidentally, MICHAEL M. v. SUPERIOR COURT OF SONOMA COUNTY proves that the SCOTUS did not believe young girls are psychologically harmed from consensual sex with older men either, at least if they are 14 and older. The only issue is illegitimate children and the teen pregnancy panic which was popular at the time. All the supposed emotional harm to both girls and boys is made up after 1981. Personally I am not buying it for either boys or girls and least of all for boys. But seeing how the CSA panic is based on no real science for girls either, as Bruce Rind demonstrates so well, the difference is simply that boys are more lucky when they have sex with women, but neither sex are victims in any real sense unless you want to obsess over pregnancy and act as if birth control is no option.
The Anne Nelson-Koch case is as far removed from the original justification for statutory rape laws as you can get, since of course neither boys nor 67-year-old women can get pregnant. Yet she is now in prison for at least 10 years (and likely the rest of her life since she will be there until she is 85) due to an entirely new-fangled rationalization for laws which only became gender-neutral after 1981. And cases like hers, but usually with far younger and hotter women, happen almost every day now. It is a witch-hunt which of course won't be recognized as such until it is over, perhaps centuries from now unless people start listening to me.
Monday, October 23, 2023
Sexual liberation is on nobody’s radar unless you mean the utterly superficial things going under the Pride banner. Nonetheless, the only thing I can do is to keep writing. Because I have failed to find a “proper” role in society. I am always and forever doing what I am “not supposed to do.” I fit neither a “job” role nor a “disabled” role where they say “that’s okay we’ll just give you money to live,” and neither do I get private donations as might have come with a substantial movement. From month to month I have to beg the state for sustenance. I failed at a career and I failed at being a failure (which wouldn’t be a failure but one of those respectable roles). Every single thing I do or sincerely stand for is hated by the majority. Nothing gains traction, nothing flies. Universal basic income would suit me, but does not exist.
While government roles are created by force, a “job” in private business consists of someone else exploiting your labor so they can make money. Neither is the selfless thing it is made out to be. In theory, if your labor is worth something you can work for yourself. I have tried that too, but nothing I offered was worth something, or if it was it was quickly shut down by regulation. Bitcoin trading is the only business I mastered to the extent that others found my services worth paying for enough that I could make a living, but as soon as I was in that position the government instituted licensing requirements that I couldn’t possibly meet. Then I made a technically great dating site called Fertile Dating, but nobody wanted to use it or invest in it in order that we could market ourselves.
I have been listening to Alan Watts a lot lately. I am neither depressed nor derealized psychologically, but I realize life is a game the way he gives the game away, which is a sort of philosophical derealization and depersonalization which one can then enjoy like a triviality. Life isn’t serious, but the first rule of the game of life is to pretend it’s serious. While I also don’t religiously seek a state of nirvana, I can slip into that cosmic consciousness easily enough. I can feel one with the universe to where the kind of opposition which I constitute is needed for the others to define themselves, and therefore I am not ultimately out of place after all. There must be losers for winners to exist, death is a contrast needed in order to know we are alive, and so on. The worker bees would not know they are hard-working without slackers to compare themselves to. I wouldn’t even know I am a sexualist without feminists who hate sex. In that sense, we are all needed and not a single grain in the universe is out of place.
If that sounds amoral then that’s because it is. Buddhism has no commandments, only a few guidelines that point out how to more easily reach enlightenment (i.e., don't lie, steal, exploit your passions or get high on drugs); but there is no hurry to get there as there is no such thing as saving your soul since your soul is the same as everyone else’s. Preaching is irrelevant because one can only preach to egos and they do not believe in egos. If you want to be Hitler for a thousand lifetimes, that’s okay and there is nothing fundamentally immoral about him either according to Buddhist philosophy. I have a hard time being so amoral myself, but I realize that if I had from the beginning ditched my morality then I would have been going with the flow and I would probably have been a normie with respect to career and socioeconomic status as well. When you don’t try to be a reformer or heretic, all that energy becomes available to you for other uses -- not to mention you are not persecuted -- so you can easily fit a role which flows with the stream. The normies who never think for themselves are always backed by the stream, so everything they do becomes that much easier. When you spend no energy hating, you even have more energy to hurt your enemies, and those who do not oppose the sex laws have more occasion to break them -- hence the proliferation of those the Antifeminist likes to call paedocrites.
As such, I chose stupidly. I am the heretic you can hate in an effortless collective way, with full institutional backing. And if that’s not enough, you can always set up a vigilante organization on top of the mainstream hysteria, like https://nabovarselnorge.no/, and milk the normies some more to support yourself in the ultimate politically correct role.
That would be the apotheosis of going with the flow. Pedo hunters exploit the moral panic to the max. There is a sort of intelligence to that, though I suspect the most Zen way is to just let go and be the blank slate of the stereotypical normie, ready to be filled with whatever morality society throws at you. It emphatically does not matter if that is Nazism or feminism or whatever -- going with the stream means accepting everything with equal detachment because you are the stream. There is nothing to hang on to. Everything decays, including morality, plus it’s cyclical so we probably get back to a more humane morality soon enough anyway. Activism can’t take us there faster, because nobody ever changes their minds in response to persuasion. Hell, I didn’t even become a sexualist by persuasion; it feels like I organically grew into that role and now for example read people like Bruce Rind who scientifically proves CSA is a hoax because his were always my opinions. No matter how good the evidence, people practically never change their opinions after seeing the evidence.
The normies believe sex is a demonic force which corrupts the young. They believe sexuality puts children in hell, even if they are enjoying it, particularly when they are exposed to a person who is more than a couple years older. They implicitly believe in a sexual soul (or perhaps “innocent” soul) which is silently corrupted by sexuality. This corruption is then believed to manifest as something like PTSD throughout the “CSA victims’” adult lives, and again the damage can be silent there too so that positive memories are false consciousness. Sexuality is believed to have an entire alternative universe where all of sexuality relating to minors is this demonic substance, “pedophilia,” that they need to hunt and exorcise except it can’t be exorcised so the Pedophile must forever be separated from society via incarceration and registration. This is a superstitious belief akin to demonic possession or animism whereby the physical and psychological phenomenon of sexuality is imbued with an extra, perfectly evil dimension. In short they believe in the metaphysical badness of sex. Sex is the new Satan for all the normies to believe in even if they are atheists.
And this is where we are now, but oh well, life isn’t serious anyway. Perhaps I realized this too late -- and I am still not completely sold on that idea which can be summed up in the idiotic conundrum of whether consciousness is singular (in which case morality has no meaning) or plural (in which case one should have compassion with other souls). If you believe in nothing, you are the perfect candidate to go with the flow, which is what society is. I am the rare rebel who enables them to feel like they believe in something even though they believe in nothing.
Wednesday, October 18, 2023
“Are you the new recruit?” asked a heavy voice.Life is first of all surprise. The only known fact to begin with is that you are sentenced to death, from which all the variation of life springs out (you can't even know you are alive without knowing you must die). This is the "joyous cosmology" of Alan Watts which despite the latter's atheism and nihilism (Buddhism) bears an amazing resemblance to the cosmology of the deeply Christian Chesterton here. Given that you have accepted the challenge to be an activist or perhaps just to live at all, we get this delightful wisdom about how to go about it. Should people like anarchists, MAPs and sexualists disguise their identity? I know none of you will believe it, but there is much truth to this:
And in some strange way, though there was not the shadow of a shape in the gloom, Syme knew two things: first, that it came from a man of massive stature; and second, that the man had his back to him.
“Are you the new recruit?” said the invisible chief, who seemed to have heard all about it. “All right. You are engaged.”
Syme, quite swept off his feet, made a feeble fight against this irrevocable phrase.
“I really have no experience,” he began.
“No one has any experience,” said the other, “of the Battle of Armageddon.”
“But I am really unfit—”
“You are willing, that is enough,” said the unknown.
“Well, really,” said Syme, “I don’t know any profession of which mere willingness is the final test.”
“I do,” said the other—“martyrs. I am condemning you to death. Good day.”
“The history of the thing might amuse you,” he said. “When first I became one of the New Anarchists I tried all kinds of respectable disguises. I dressed up as a bishop. I read up all about bishops in our anarchist pamphlets, in Superstition the Vampire and Priests of Prey. I certainly understood from them that bishops are strange and terrible old men keeping a cruel secret from mankind. I was misinformed. When on my first appearing in episcopal gaiters in a drawing-room I cried out in a voice of thunder, ‘Down! down! presumptuous human reason!’ they found out in some way that I was not a bishop at all. I was nabbed at once. Then I made up as a millionaire; but I defended Capital with so much intelligence that a fool could see that I was quite poor. Then I tried being a major. Now I am a humanitarian myself, but I have, I hope, enough intellectual breadth to understand the position of those who, like Nietzsche, admire violence—the proud, mad war of Nature and all that, you know. I threw myself into the major. I drew my sword and waved it constantly. I called out ‘Blood!’ abstractedly, like a man calling for wine. I often said, ‘Let the weak perish; it is the Law.’ Well, well, it seems majors don’t do this. I was nabbed again. At last I went in despair to the President of the Central Anarchist Council, who is the greatest man in Europe.” [...] I said to him, ‘What disguise will hide me from the world? What can I find more respectable than bishops and majors?’ He looked at me with his large but indecipherable face. ‘You want a safe disguise, do you? You want a dress which will guarantee you harmless; a dress in which no one would ever look for a bomb?’ I nodded. He suddenly lifted his lion’s voice. ‘Why, then, dress up as an anarchist, you fool!’ he roared so that the room shook. ‘Nobody will ever expect you to do anything dangerous then.’ And he turned his broad back on me without another word. I took his advice, and have never regretted it. I preached blood and murder to those women day and night, and—by God!—they would let me wheel their perambulators.”And I know -- I know I will keep getting 99% anonymous comments after this hilariously touching quote too. But you are mistaken about the utility of keeping your true colors hidden in your daily lives as majors or bishops or whatever is your "respectable" role. The fact of the matter is that such secrecy is counterproductive not just to our movement but your personal safety against the feminist police state as well.
Certainly now that society currently isn't persecuting heretics. Even for sex crimes now when antisex is the state religion, the heresy itself isn't punished. Just watch me deny the metaphysical badness of sex in blog post after blog post without getting arrested -- or if I do get arrested, at least without conviction. Hey, even Heretic TOC is still up and I have no doubt women would let him wheel their perambulators because he is so open and honest about his activism, not the least bit creepy or hypocritical. The closest we come to punishing heresy is the obscenity laws, which admittedly come very close and sometimes do serve as repurposed blasphemy laws but still allow considerable rhetorical leeway. Chesterton allows us to imagine what it would be like if the police were philosophers and not just brutes:
“You are not sufficiently democratic,” answered the policeman, “but you were right when you said just now that our ordinary treatment of the poor criminal was a pretty brutal business. I tell you I am sometimes sick of my trade when I see how perpetually it means merely a war upon the ignorant and the desperate. But this new movement of ours is a very different affair. We deny the snobbish English assumption that the uneducated are the dangerous criminals. We remember the Roman Emperors. We remember the great poisoning princes of the Renaissance. We say that the dangerous criminal is the educated criminal. We say that the most dangerous criminal now is the entirely lawless modern philosopher. Compared to him, burglars and bigamists are essentially moral men; my heart goes out to them. They accept the essential ideal of man; they merely seek it wrongly. Thieves respect property. They merely wish the property to become their property that they may more perfectly respect it. But philosophers dislike property as property; they wish to destroy the very idea of personal possession. Bigamists respect marriage, or they would not go through the highly ceremonial and even ritualistic formality of bigamy. But philosophers despise marriage as marriage. Murderers respect human life; they merely wish to attain a greater fulness of human life in themselves by the sacrifice of what seems to them to be lesser lives.”I would add that most sex offenders have no political or philosophical beef with the sex laws. They have no interest in denying the supposed metaphysical badness of sex with minors, or women's right to regret-rape laws or whatever. They merely thought they could get away with breaking these laws, or that they are somehow more innocent at heart than other men doing precisely the same things. The protagonist replies thus to the policeman:
“How true that is,” he cried. “I have felt it from my boyhood, but never could state the verbal antithesis. The common criminal is a bad man, but at least he is, as it were, a conditional good man. He says that if only a certain obstacle be removed—say a wealthy uncle—he is then prepared to accept the universe and to praise God. He is a reformer, but not an anarchist. He wishes to cleanse the edifice, but not to destroy it. But the evil philosopher is not trying to alter things, but to annihilate them. Yes, the modern world has retained all those parts of police work which are really oppressive and ignominious, the harrying of the poor, the spying upon the unfortunate. It has given up its more dignified work, the punishment of powerful traitors in the State and powerful heresiarchs in the Church. The moderns say we must not punish heretics. My only doubt is whether we have a right to punish anybody else.”This is eerily similar to what I have been thinking ever since I was arrested in 2012 and found myself to be the worst person in the prison from the point of view of philosophical policing, because everyone else was this sort of "conditionally good person" or someone who had problems with impulse control and I alone a heretic. I marvel that I am not punished for speaking heresy against the sex laws while pathetic harmless wankers who would never say a bad word about the sex laws are.
But rest assured the police does not read Chesterton, and neither do the feminists who deliver their ideological premises. They are set to continue their absurdly misguided war on sex for a long time, which leaves us peace to organize our intellectual opposition. Newgon is on track to produce a powerful body of work which can jumpstart a movement for sexual liberation in no time when conditions are right. If the feminists wise up a little bit it it may well have to survive in illegal channels for a while like the "CSAM" the state also fights with perfect futility, but I am confident it will persist. The feminists can kill us, but they can't kill our ideas because we are already too many dedicated activists for that to succeed.
As to the book I just reviewed, there were no spoilers here. Go ahead and read it for fun and edification and perhaps even the deepest meaning Chesterton seems to intend, which is a sort of periphrasis of the Bible. It is not overly preachy, however, closer to Alan Watts as such. Although the subtitle is "A Nightmare," it feels uplifting in the end, whether you ultimately believe in a God or not. It is a bringer of good news as in a gospel and renewed sense of wonder. Poetry is the art of saying what cannot be said, and I think this succeeds as such. Since it cannot be put simply, you would have to read it to find out what this is. To me it even speaks to my role in the battle between good and evil as a male sexualist. To paraphrase the ending a little bit, I am left with an unnatural buoyancy in my body and a crystal simplicity in mind. I now feel in possession of some impossible good news which makes every other thing a triviality, but an adorable triviality.
Wednesday, September 27, 2023
A, say, 40-year-old normie will not conceptualize it like he is a bad person or worse than a 20-year-old and therefore cannot sleep with 16-year-old girls, but that’s what this scheme says. Having been indoctrinated with feminist antisex bigotry his whole life he will sputter some shibboleth about a “power imbalance” when asked why, but even if true then why does he assume he will use his power for bad? He must think he is a bad person! He is full of self-loathing while also managing to ignore that the teenage girl has tremendous sexual power over most men, so why should she choose to let him boss her around? Why can’t she choose an older man (if she happens to choose an older man) who is both “powerful” and nice? Oh, they don’t exist, do they? Then we are back to the idea that men over the staggered age of consent at something like 21, or the regular age of consent at 16 for that matter, are morally worse persons than below. And what is the evidence for that?
The evidence I know of says people become more considerate with age. People become more altruistic, with the reward system in their brain responding more weakly to self-gains and more strongly to others' gains. It would be astonishing if sex is an exception to this and we all reach maximum sexual benevolence at 16 or 18 or 20, after which we all irredeemably become sexual monsters. It is absurd. There is also an awful lot of sexual aggression by men 20 and under which is hard to reconcile with making them out to be a morally pure class. Real rapists tend to be quite young while accusations against men 40 and older are almost always statutory.
Now a normie would be likely to bring up naiveness -- that it is somehow better for young girls to have their first experiences with naïve boys. Even if there is a grain of truth to the idea that a virgin or timid incel boy would be less likely to mistreat girls, naiveness is not related to age but experience. The boys teenage girls are likely to sleep with of their own age don’t remain inexperienced for long. Realistically we must imagine the 16-year-old Russell Brand-accuser choosing instead (if there had been an enforced staggered age of consent) not some virgin 16-year-old boy but a 16 to 20-year-old version of Russell Brand or similar alpha, who would probably already have had dozens of girls and act similarly already as he did at 30. It is indeed possible that Russell Brand was an inconsiderate lover, but age of consent does not solve the problem. Frankly it does the opposite -- as sexual aggression goes down while compassion goes up -- and I think even he has calmed down over the years and would not now at near 50 do what he is accused of with the 16-year-old if he should get the chance to have another Alice, which by the way is: “'forced his penis down her throat' and 'made her choke', only stopping after she punched him in the stomach.” The problem with older men is not that they tend to act like that, whereas I am not so sure that teenage boys weaned on today’s porn yet know better than to act like that. You see, they are all really not so naïve after all even if they never had sex, and not in a good way.
It is of course true that attractiveness declines with age, but that simply makes age gap relationships less likely rather than more inherently abusive. Attraction isn’t always zero, and whoever remains interested in an older man do not need a law telling them that they can’t consent. It is also entirely possible, even likely, that an older man is a more considerate, empathetic lover and will use whatever power he has over you for good rather than bad. If your view of human nature is that vulnerable equals abuse victim, I don’t see how you can trust any kind of relationship. There are many more profound ways to be vulnerable than to be young, and if you think your partner is only waiting for you to be weak so he can hurt you it would be dangerous to even fall asleep next him at any age, or be frail or incapacitated for any reason. Yet this is what the feminists will have us believe, selectively applied to age and sexuality. It may be consistent with their hateful agenda, but not with reality.
Friday, September 22, 2023
Let us take the most low-tech scenarios first. A sting operation is a simulation, a game, and it is considered plenty justification to lock men up. And then there is online sexual abuse and so-called image-based sexual abuse which is completely virtual but considered fully real crimes of which the metaphysics isn't the least bit suspect to the normies -- exactly like the docile aliens in Star Trek who obediently enter the disintegrator after a computer simulation tells them they are supposed to be dead. They literally believe these norms are reasonable and Kirk is a barbarian for wanting to keep it real.
The technological development of the internet and smart devices has in many ways been positive, but has also created more arenas where sexual violence can take place. In recent decades, research of sexual violence has expanded and now also consider online arenas (Jonsson et al., 2019; Svedin & Jonsson, 2017; Zetterstrom Dahlqvist & Gillander Gadin, 2018). The modi operandi for online sexual violence include, but are not limited to, repeated requests for nude pictures, dickpics, online publication of nude pictures, and unwanted sexual advances such as unwanted solicitation, online grooming, and online rape.Sexual violence is defined by the World Health Organization (WHO) as “any sexual act, attempt to obtain a sexual act, unwanted sexual comments or advances, or acts to traffic, or otherwise directed, against a person's sexuality using coercion, by any person regardless of their relationship to the victim, in any setting, including but not limited to home and work.” (WHO, 2012). It is regarded as a serious global public health problem, and can be perpetrated in different arenas, and in different modalities. In this article, we have used a broad definition of online sexual violence that includes a range of practices and events that have the common aspects of; being unwanted or perceived in a negative way by the subjected person; of a sexual nature; and perpetrated through some kind of digital media.The prevalence of online sexual violence depends on how it is conceptualized and the method of measurements. Online sexual harassment, which is defined as being subjected, via electronic means to, for example unwelcome sexual comments, jokes, or gestures, or being asked to do something sexual when one does not want to, is thought to affect around 15% of American teenagers (Copp et al., 2021). A specific kind of online sexual harassment that has become ubiquitous in the present time is receiving unrequested pictures of male genitals, the so-called dickpic (Ringrose et al., 2021). The prevalence of receiving a dickpic among youth is not extensively researched, but some research suggests that for women who had at one time received a consensual dickpic, 90% had also received unwanted dickpics (Marcotte et al., 2021).Another form of online sexual harassment is unwanted requests or pressure to send nudes, so-called pressurized sexting. This is often tightly interwoven with the practice of consensual sexting (Ringrose et al., 2013, 2022; Thomas, 2018; Thorburn et al., 2021). The prevalence of sexting was around 20% in a Swedish sample of youth from 2014 but this had increased to 37% by 2021 (Jonsson et al., 2014; Svedin et al., 2021). A meta-analysis of four studies from Canada, the US, Europe, and the Czech Republic found a prevalence of having one's sext furthered without consent was 8.4% (Madigan et al., 2018), something that some researchers propose should go under the label of image-based sexual abuse (McGlynn et al., 2017)There is also the case of more severe forms of online sexual violence, which is often referred to as online sexual abuse, or when the survivor is underaged: online child sexual abuse. The prevalence of online child sexual abuse among youth in a large community school sample in Sweden was around 0,5% (Svedin & Jonsson, 2017).
So, take a hint from Captain Kirk. Men must break the treaty which holds that we accept real punishment for imaginary crimes. If the feminists want war it must be a real war on both sides, not a one-sided one where men are real casualties for simulated crimes.