I’m nobody’s idea of a coxswain*, but even I know this ain’t how you do it (link via Vox Day’s site Alpha Game).

In case you don’t want to read a lot of Millennial gamma male whining, the tl;dr is “engineering student tries to get laid by pretending he’s all about the girls in STEM (but in a supportive, feminist way); fails miserably.”

Again, I’m no mack daddy, but it seems like any halfway attractive girl in STEM can write her own ticket.  In some ways, you’d have an easier time picking up an 8 at the bar than a 5 in the chem lab.  At least the bar is full of other 7s, 8s, 9s; competition keeps the attention from getting to her head.  The STEM 5, on the other hand, is surrounded by the horniest, most awkward dudes this side of Canada.  At least half of them, I’m sure, think moves like this guy’s are the way to go… plus doing her homework, carrying her books, and whatever else figures into the STEM guys’ weird, 1950ish idea of “romance.”

As it turns out, I have some experience in this area.  I had lots of high school friends who went to the pricey, private, elite engineering school across town from my crappy public college.  Since engineers all drink like fish in college, I was forever hopping on the bus to go throw down a few with my buddies – their parties seemingly aimed for a 1:1 keg:person ratio.  One night, I found myself getting the coldest shoulder imaginable from this barely passable chick.  Again, I’m not Don Juan, but there’s no way I should’ve been getting blown out by this maybe 6-in-low-light-and-after-a-few-shots.  And I do mean blown out — she did everything short of pulling down my pants and laughing.

But then a weird thing happened.  I got back to my buddies, and they were all high-fiving and congratulating me for even getting five minutes with this chick.  I was baffled, until they explained to me that I’d been hitting on the hottest girl in school.  Like, she was the homecoming queen, dated the quarterback, etc. etc., and I was apparently some kind of stud for even having the balls to talk to her.  Now, we were all well on our way to wasted at the time, but my buddies couldn’t grok it when I explained to them that this engineering uber-babe wouldn’t have even been the best looking girl on my dorm floor, and what’s more, guys, you and I went to high school together…. we were constantly surrounded by much better looking girls than this.  Hell, we’d dated girls who were at least as good looking, and we — or, at least, you — are the kind of guys who’d end up at an elite engineering school….

See what I mean? All the dorks pining after her had given this chick impenetrable bitch armor.  I’m not sure any amount of “Game” would’ve worked on her, until you got her out of that weird little world and around normal girls for a few hours.  I’m well out of the dating scene now, but if I had to give some advice to guys like my friends (or, sadly, myself) back in the days, it’d be “plenty of fish, dude.  Plenty of fish.  It’s a cliche because it’s true.  Find out where the Education majors hang out — they’re easy.”

But, alas, this is the Age of Asperger’s.  If I said “plenty of fish in the sea, dude,” this poindexter would probably rent a boat….

*PS: I’m aware that coxswain is a naval rate; I just think it sounds funny.

As I said in this discussion over at the Z Blog, it’s weird — and deeply unpleasant — living through the end of an epoch.  Watching Europe’s voluntary suicide-by-immigration — coming soon to a theater near you! — I understand what civilized Romano-Britons must’ve felt, watching the last legions sailing away from the London docks.  Things are actually pretty good right now, materially speaking — I’m writing this from a nice room, climate controlled, with electricity, running water, and plenty of food in the fridge — and that’s not likely to change in the immediate future.  It’s not as if the Picts are propping ladders up against the wall as we speak.  But the writing is on the wall: The West — tolerant, liberal, open-minded, scientific, Christian — is over.

I’ll leave it to historians more schooled than I in 20th century history to perform the autopsy… assuming there are any a few decades from now.  But in the spirit of guild fraternity, I’d like to help them out.  Let’s leave a few primary sources behind.

One of the hardest things to get at is culture.  Go on Project Gutenberg and peruse some 19th century novels.  We need “scholarly editions” now to fully appreciate even the classics; the dime novels, which were more fully of their milieu, are almost incomprehensible in spots.  The products, the slang, all of the little ways of living that they took for granted and we’re in the dark about….

So: What would you like remembered about your times?  Slang?  Products?  Attitudes?  I’m not talking about “stupid liberals believed this” or “can you believe that was popular?”  The fact that it was believed, was popular, is the important stuff, because that’s the kind of thing historians need to know.  Let the 2095 folks figure out why Nickelback sold seventy zillion albums, despite everyone seemingly hating them.  We just want to record the pop culture tidbits that strike us for posterity.

What do you say?

There is a sci-fi short story out there called “Space Raptor Butt Invasion.” It has been nominated for a Hugo Award.  I couldn’t care less about the whole Sad / Rabid Puppies dust up, but because they have nominated it, there will be serious discussion about a story called “Space Raptor Butt Invasion.”

And yes, it’s a real story (link to Amazon, but if you think any part of “Space Raptor Butt Invasion” is SFW, please send me your organization’s job app asap).

This has been a public service announcement.  Y’all need to know this stuff.

The eighth circle of Hell is reserved for the fraudulent.  I’m not sure which particular ditch people who push identity politics onto kids occupy, but I’m pretty sure that the demons who punish them all look like Canadian girlfriends.

She really is Canadian

Allow me to explain, for the benefit of younger readers.  The sexual maturation process, like maturation in general, is wildly variable.  Worse, social skills usually lag woefully behind sexual development — the gawky, dorky, yet super-horny teenager is a stereotype for a reason.  If, like me, you were born in the Jurassic, and if, again like me, you were one of those gawky, dorky, yet super-horny teenagers, your parents probably compared your fumbling attempts to get a date with a dog chasing cars — you have no idea why you do it, and you wouldn’t have the first clue what to do with one if you caught it.

And that’s the beauty of the Canadian girlfriend.  If your social skills don’t sync up with your raging hormones, you can get yourself a little breathing room in your peer group by claiming you met this great girl on summer vacation…. but, alas, she lives in Canada, and even though you were totally this close to scoring, she had to go back to, like, Ottawa … but she writes you every week, and dude, this Christmas vacation, it’s gonna be epic……

You know what I mean, and if you were a teenager at any time before the Internet Age, you undoubtedly know someone who tried a version of this (not that any one of you, our four regular readers, did this; I know y’all are lotharios from way back.  But I’m sure you know someone who did, if you’re old enough).

Girls did it too, I found out about 20 years later (sometimes I’m not the quickest on the uptake).  Sometimes “I have a boyfriend” really meant she had a boyfriend.  Sometimes it meant “not in a million years would I ever go out with you” (which is what I always figured it meant, at least in my case).  But sometimes, “I have a boyfriend” meant “he’s in Canada,” which meant “I’m not going to go out with you, because I’m not mentally and emotionally ready to go out with anyone.”

It was a pretty good system, all things considered.  If you got shot down, well, it’s not you.  It’s just that she’s dating a lifeguard from Vancouver… and besides, she’s got nothing on that hottie from Ottawa anyway.

Sadly, that doesn’t work in the Internet Age, thanks in no small part to Cultural Marxists who push identity politics further and further down the maturity ladder.  Which is what I suspect happened to sad cases like this self-proclaimed “asexual.”  I apologize in advance for this, but y’all need to see it:

Okay but… I’m surrounded by f–kboys?? Like ALL the time. Even the moderately decent ones are 100% f–kboys. WHY?? WHY?
I got the skeeziest once over from one of the new f–kboys and then one of the other ones that I’ve been having issues with BECAUSE HE SUCKS AT HIS F–KING JOB BUT THINKS HE’S HOT SH*T SO REFUSES TO DO BETTER decided to try flirting with me and then say “Well, you know, I only date people I work with” and I rolled my eyes so f–king hard holy shit and actually said “Yeah, well, I literally have no interest in dating anyone so” to which THE ENTIRE TEAM OF F–KBOYS RESPONDED THAT THEY DOUBT THAT because obviously their personalities and their d–ks are so f–king magical that I MUST want them, righT????????? so then I just “Sweetheart, trust me, if it was a lie I wouldn’t be wearing a shirt that literally says it” (wearing my “Asexual pirate isn’t interested in your booty” shirt today) AND THEY STILL WEREN’T STOPPING AND OMG THEY’RE SO SELF IMPORTANT LIKE WHY???
Mostly it just wasn’t that bad because they’re all children to me, regardless of age and how mature they think they are. So lots of eye rolls. A few of them aren’t 100% awful (1 is actually kinda chill) but yeah, no. Still f–kboys.

Translation: Self-proclaimed “asexual” girl gets hit on by male coworker, freaks out.

I’ll grant for purposes of argument that it’s possible for a human to be “asexual,” but I’m thinking that in this case, cause-and-effect run the other way.  Here we have a young lady who first got messed up by identity politics, then decided she was “asexual.”  Stacy McCain’s link provides not only pictures (are we not men?), but evidence for my hypothesis:

Panromantic asexual//demi-romantic asexual (because I rarely experience romantic attraction but when I do gender’s not a factor). I’m 22, and I didn’t know that I was asexual until I was almost 21 years old . . . Until then, I dated and generally did a LOT of things I didn’t really care for/want to do because I was expected to do them and whenever I expressed that I didn’t care for them people told me I was broken and there was something wrong with me…

Armchair diagnosis is pretty easy — sexual maturity hit fairly late, but Cultural Marxism hit very early, so while her more sexually mature peers were out slutting it up, she really couldn’t see what the big deal was.  Which meant that any sexual encounters she had would’ve been unpleasant indeed, further confusing her and leading, via Google search, to the safe harbor of ever-more-radicalized identity politics.

A Canadian boyfriend could’ve prevented all this.*  Saving yourself for Chad from Vancouver — or letting it be known on the down low that it’s mind-blowing when you do finally manage to get together — buys valuable time to let your hormones catch up with your head.  And since more than one person in your peer group undoubtedly is (or was) in a similar boat, everyone’s going to pretend to believe you.

Alas, the Internet killed it.  It’s nearly impossible to fake a Canadian girlfriend in the age of Facebook and instant messaging.  So we’ll have more and more poor souls like this girl, yoked to radical politics when all she really needed was a few more years to mature.  Tragic.

*So could a promise ring or other “true love waits” paraphernalia, of course, but this IS the Internet Age we’re discussing.

Man oh man, the Alt-Right is almost as entertaining as the Kos Kidz.  I’ve been dropping in on the voting threads on sites like Vox Day, and — sorry Gary — I’m starting to come back around to my old position that cognitive dissonance is bullshit.  They’re pulling off some contortions that yoga masters couldn’t.

For instance, remember how the GOP rigged their primary system specifically to beat Ted Cruz?  Somehow — it has defeated my google-fu — the same system that was designed to exclude Cruz is now the system specifically designed to prop Cruz up.  When Jeb was the anointed one, Cruz was the radical outsider; now that Jeb’s gone, Cruz is the Wall Street darling that all the establishment cucks wanted all along.  I even saw some guy asserting that the GOP has been planning for a brokered convention “for years” — presumably engineering Jeb’s humiliating loss, the rise of Trump, the existence of Ben Carson, and whatever Carly Fiorina was up to.  And, of course, Ted Cruz has really been BushCo’s stalking horse all along, according to the InfoWars set.

Frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that Donald Trump is an Establishment plant sometime here soon.  Because, you see, the Rand Corporation and the reverse vampires have been plotting to make Hillary Clinton president in 2016 for at least 25 years….

Inspired by the discussion here, and this:

[Konstantin Romodanovsky, head of Russia’s Federal Migration Service] comments came after it emerged Brussels was seeking a deal with Vladimir Putin to stop fuelling the influx of migrants into Europe.

A sharp rise in numbers entering the continent from Russia has led senior officials to plead with Moscow for help.

It comes despite warnings that, by bombing Syria and fuelling the flow of refugees, Russia is ‘weaponising’ the crisis to ‘overwhelm’ and ‘break’ Europe.

Meanwhile, migrants continued to ignore warnings about that their hopes for quick access to a better life in Europe would fail.

The facts on the ground appear to be these:

1. Western Europe can’t afford — financially, culturally, politically — to allow in more “refugees.”
2. Western European police forces are unable to stop the influx of “refugees”
3. Indeed, Western European police forces are already overwhelmed by the “refugees” already within their borders — cf. the mass sex attacks Romodanovsky references

Therefore, Western European nations will have to call out their armies to seal their borders.* But:

1. Western European militaries are tiny — like, the size of a few US army divisions
2. Western European elites lack the political will to call their tiny armies out to close the borders — indeed, Merkel et al seem suicidally determined to bring in as many “refugees” as possible, as quickly as possible

Therefore, it is likelier that the army will get called out to “escort” and police the “refugee” migrations – the police can’t handle it, and leaving them to their own devices is too great a security risk.

If that happens — if Western European armies are called out to assist an invasion — I really don’t think the proud professional officers are going to take it.  Given the size of their armies, you have to really, really, really want to be in the armed forces to make a career of it.

Which leads to…. a coup, a putsch, whatever you want to call it.  Unless Europe’s leaders wise up and completely reverse course — and there’s very little sign of that happening, as they’re begging Russia, of all nations, to help them — then it seems almost inevitable.

Thoughts?  Am I missing something here?

*Unless, that is, as Vox Day suggests, Western European nations really are stupid and suicidal enough to invite the Russian military to police their borders for them.  In which case, the Euros richly deserve what’s coming to them, but I wouldn’t wish the fate of “refugees” under the Red Army on anyone.

A guest post by Nate Winchester.

I think all of history’s “conspiracy theories” are ultimately this scene from an unremarkable film.

Was there a conspiracy?  Sure, in planting the fish, not to kill.  The conspiracy aimed low, human nature blew up the goal past all proportion.  The “history” (those who find the scene afterwards) assign all the blame to the initial plan.