This Week In Philosophy: Edition 4

Thanks for tuning in to the latest installment of This Week In Philosophy: an archive of some of the thoughts I’ve had over the last few days, along with the pictures that went with them for illustration and entertainment. As per usual, there is no particular theme here, but I record these not only so instagram and the people I end up offending can’t take them down, but to put them into one post for you to read. Will this turn into a newsletter, style? I don’t know yet, but hopefully you find what’s below entertaining and useful. Thanks, and happy reading!

Part 1: Culture & Racism

“The most dangerous group in the country is white males.” – Thee Ted Smith

Funny enough this is after a recent encounter I talked about on the show where several units, including the precinct commander, got involved with. The reason? I wear sunglasses while driving due to light sensitivity even at night, and though they were very professional and courteous the whole time, even talked to them about a few things I do, they were flummoxed by this and ran several tests to make sure it wasn’t because I was high. It should be pointed out that, while recanting this story to the white side of my family, they also immediately assumed racism (my dad’s partner specifically, who is fully white and grew up in white culture).

So the question I suppose is whether racism is prevalent between white cops and minorities. Funny how it’s always white people that are in question about this, but I’ll get to why that is later. As (and I hate I even have to say this) a black man, who grew up in black culture, and also had my fair amount of run ins with not only the police but my own former culture, I have quite a few stories to choose from. They’re anecdotal, as those for whom what I’m about to say may make them feel uncomfortable will point out(meaning I’m right), but they’re true nonetheless.

First one that comes to mind is a run I was making to a sex shop to buy condoms for this girl waiting at a motel nearby (we’ll call her the Cambodian Single Mom) and I was pulled over by L.A. Sheriffs. I went to grab my wallet and the (white) cop immediately pulled his pistol and screamed for me to put my hands on the wheel. Why? Racism? Was he looking for “niggers to kill”? No. Because for whatever reason I stashed my wallet in the space between the seat and the door, and it looked like I was going for a gun. As I was being checked for weapons (had none on me at the time), the guy asked me “why the hell did you do that man?”, and I could clearly see the adrenaline rush; he wasn’t a bigot, he was terrified. The reason for being pulled over was no tabs by the way (which is reason enough), on a Saturday night in South Central no less, where a lot of people like me commit a bit more of their fair share of crimes. I was let go without even a written warning.

Again, the question was whether race plays a matter in police work. Have I had interactions with, say, black or Latino policemen? Glad you asked! Again, pulled over with no tabs by a Mexican cop, this time with 2 other black guys in the car, both underage. Ended up stuck with several other units to search my car and question us about what we were up to. After about 45 minutes, a final unit pulled up and had us stand in line as they shined a light on us, with one of the guys putting a lime green head scarf in my pocket. Afterward, the unit drove off, and we were let go. The reason for all of this? Aside from not having tabs, my car, along with all of us, fit the description of some burglars that broke into someone’s home. It didn’t help that my friend also had jewelery he allegedly got from his grandma to take to the pawn shop. There was only one cop that flat out said “I just don’t believe you”. I’ll let you guess what race he was. Hint: not white or Hispanic.

These are not the only encounters to be had by far, just the most noteworthy and drawn out. Prince (as in @two_penny_prince to keep it short) told a story about being pulled over hammered and being let go, while his black friend got his car searched for drugs after being pulled over for a broken taillight. I’ve also been “detained” (can’t say pulled over given I was refueling at the time) for possibly doing a drug deal with the classmate I was coming back from a martial arts tournament with, while two white guys walked by with an open handle of smirnoff. I’ve also been pulled over for no tabs (look, California sucks legally. The DMV is one of the many ways it does), while also hammered after bartending at a house party. Let go within minutes. Both times the cops were white, while I’m pretty sure my skin color hadn’t changed all that much. And that’s the question I’d like to ask: why is skin color or race the only factor being brought up? Why is that the go to? Aside from skin color (by the way, good luck giving a descriptor of your mugger or rapist without disclosing that information), the cops have to take a multitude of factors in to solve cases or track down criminals; skin color is just one of them. It happens to be one of the most telling as well: there are plenty of verified statistics that show that blacks and Hispanics (Mexican or otherwise) commit far more crimes on average than whites do, especially given the disparity of population. But is that the only discrepancy? No. Let’s look at what’s tied to race, and that is culture:

Just a couple of stories from my former culture. I say former because I no longer identify with it: it might as well be on a different continent and time period as far as I’m concerned, though it still exists around me to this day, much to my chagrin. Why do I say this, even though it’s literally what I grew up in? First story: was outside the local bar talking to a black guy and his 3 white buddies, and for whatever reason the race topic came up, likely talking about this very topic. I explained my position that while I came from black culture, making it a point to distinguish that from race, it had treated me much more poorly than white culture has, and that honestly I identified with them more, which is the reason I live amongst them now in the first place, along with everyone else here. The white guys didn’t quite know how to reply but at least were digesting what I was saying. The black guy? He straight up got violent: he couldn’t believe what I was saying, calling me a “traitor” among other tasteful expletives. Again, this was a black guy with white friends, who had to hold him back as I left so I wouldn’t turn his skull into a permanent fixture on the side of the bar *coughs* we wouldn’t get in an altercation where the cops might show up.

The second story? A bit closer to home you could say, and I’ve talked about this before. Last time I visited the family down in L.A. my brother happened to be there. From a different mister who like my mother is also fully black, but we literally grew up together. For whatever reason (I keep saying that because these aren’t topics I would bring up in a normal conversation) my mom’s partner asked about my politics. Again, I explained my position, that being that while the left is outright parasitic and anti-human, the right say a lot of the right things but are cowardly dopes, libertarians in the middle theorize more than actually get things done, and anarchy is too tarnished a word to be taken seriously by the average human; therefore, I’m Unbound, which not only means I don’t ID with any of them (meaning I can think for myself and not along some party lines), but it also exposes whoever asks about that and where their own politics lie, since that prompts most people to label me something that makes it easier to put me into whatever camp they can then attack. Sure enough, my brother immediately called me a troll, and spent the next 5 minutes trying to paint that label on me. When that failed he asked just how I could agree with what conservatives had to say, also calling me a traitor among other things (notice a pattern here?). Finally, after using one of my tactics of disarming the conversation basically saying had people had to actually pay for their words in a debate they would shut up, given he had taken to hand gestures and word salad by that point, he left the house in tears, only coming back 30 minutes later, going to his room for the night without a word. That was the last I’ve heard of him: he didn’t even say goodbye. Hell, the only reason I suspect he also didn’t get violent is because we were at home, and though he was larger than me he knows of my martial background (he was a student of mine at one point), and I also clearly outclassed him physically.

Two things I want to point out from this. 1. Black culture in particular has oppression built into it: humans in it think they’re inherently discriminated against by white people. Employers, service staff, and in particular the police, black people as a whole still believe they are systematically discriminated against. I’m not discounting what Prince’s friends have said about their encounters: they could be 100% true. But the first, primary and often only difference brought up is if they’re black? I get it: that’s the easy way out and requires little if any thought, should you believe what black culture has to say. Doesn’t make it any less disingenuous. Along that line given the story of my brother, being a democrat is also baked into black culture, though thankfully that seems to be changing a bit at least for the men.

And that leads me to 2. Every race is partial to their own as a whole. Think that quip about “hispanic, Mexican or otherwise” was pulled out of my ass? That comes from high school, where a couple of Mexican guys went on this 30 minute tirade to the entire classroom about how they weren’t hispanic because they weren’t from Spain and they weren’t Latino because they weren’t latin; they were Mexican. It only stopped when I asked them who the hell cares and they didn’t have an answer. In-group preference has been well known for a while now, and often it gets used as a scapegoat, these days mostly against white people. Got another couple of stories involving the natives up here: one where a white guy asked about the people on some native’s shirt and him getting offended by it, resulting in 2 different brawls (by the way, I also asked the same question because I was curious: he didn’t pull that crap with me), another where I was at a table with a group of them and talking about the upcoming apocalypse one of the women went on this speech about the tribe would survive because their ancestors lived off the land for generations, and I pissed all of them off by saying I knew the only Indian on the entire reservation that even had a shot at surviving, if for no other reason than she wasn’t fat (in case you don’t know, almost all of the natives here are overweight at best). Same goes for the islanders here: I’ve talked a out why I generally don’t interact with them much these days. Same goes for black people, hispanic, asian, and yes, white people: they will have some form of group preference. It’s just white people that seemingly aren’t allowed to.

I’ve joked before that every race has a dirty word to call it: what’s the N-bomb for white? Racist. It’s a joke, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Why is that even a thing? The reality is that white culture, far more than any other, is self-critical: they are more likely than any other culture to look inward and see whether or not their way of thinking is wrong. It is no accident that Western cultures with white people in them were the first ones to abolish slavery (by the way, those evil racist republicans? Yeah, those racists kinda fought a war in part to end it in the States), that much of modern technology and freedoms exist today, and much of the rest of the world wants to move or stay to western white culture land. None of that would be possible without being self-critical: if you think your way is always right even if you’re wrong, you don’t grow. The other side of that double edge, of course, is that other cultures can exploit that. Let’s face it: most black people don’t even think racism exists outside of white culture, let alone they themselves can be racist. Same goes for a lot of other cultures to varying degrees. The only culture that asks themselves if they are being discriminatory, and half of themselves think they ARE, is white culture, and if you even question whether a white person is racist, cop or otherwise, well, you can imagine what labels get thrown at the offending party.

So could cops be harsher on blacks and other races, while letting white people slide a bit? That could very well be the case sometimes: whitey has in group preference just like everyone else, in their own country to boot. But let’s not let that be the end all be all reasoning behind why, say, black people get harsher treatment: it’s disingenuous, it’s lazy, and frankly, it’s downright cowardly. If you actually care about blacks and others maybe getting unfair treatment from law enforcement, doesn’t it make more sense to look deeper than skin color? Seems to me that would be the least racist way to look at it, don’t ya think?

Part 2:


“The key to becoming unstoppable is knowing how you can be stopped.”

I looked back in the archives of pictures past today, looking for a specific photo of a hike I went on. Sadly there appears to be none, though I did find some pictures from hikes past, all of which were very arduous, with others far better suited to hiking than I am. One of those was taken at a lake about 3,000 feet up, another was during a descent from a goddamn ski slope, both times overweight and under equipped. Yesterday was a different story for me. Yesterday I went with a friend of mine on a hike out in her neck of the woods, a hike we took a couple of years ago around the same time of year. This time was a bit different. Instead of just mud, it was snow and ice on the ground; even worse conditions than before. What was also different is, if you saw my previous post, that was what I wore that day: shirt and shorts yes, but the full set of weights, with the boots needed for the ankle ones. Yes: I climbed a mountain with weights. And, though traction was a bit of an issue, I made it up with more than enough energy to spare. That’s the reason I was looking for the pic of when I went up the first time: I was pretty beat by the time I made it to the summit, almost 2 years ago, with just extra sleeves and fat at the time. Quite a drastic change as you can imagine.

I have many talents and skills, and do take pride in them: while some came more naturally than others, all required hard work to attain, mostly at the hands of those far better at it than me. As I told my friend that day, though I tell people to stand whenever they can, whether it’s by car plane or bike, I’m much more at home moving while sitting on my ass than on my own two feet; I suck at hiking. Yet still, I went from barely making it all the way up with barely any weight to basically cruising up with weight the average human couldn’t walk with on a normal day. This did not come from nowhere: my job requires that I walk sometimes long distances and climb both hills and sets of stairs, both of which winded me a bit before, again before the weights: now, as the last few days have shown, the same set of stairs, and the same steep hills to be summited, are done so with barely a change in breathing, let alone breaking a sweat. But, hard work over time that requires to attain, the reason I put in the work in the first place is because I was humble.


Yes, you read that correctly: though the last 2 paragraphs may sound like bragging, and I suppose they are a bit, I got there by being humble, or humbled at least. I may not show it most of the time, in part because usually I’m having fun with or in some form of combat with whoever I’m interacting with: in either case, you only do yourself a disservice by showing what you do not know, though when it comes to arguments I am learning how to integrate it. But, as the above quote may have given away, how can you learn something new if you think you know it all already? How can you make progress if, in your mind, you’re already there? Another side story: at one time I thought I was the fastest street cyclist ever, in part because of past experience, some of which is still classified. It took me finding the biking group and being shown up multiple times to change that and inspire me to work harder (granted at the time I had tires that I armored enough to possibly fend off a. 22lr round, which didn’t exactly help). A happy end to that story I suppose was taking that same bike and competing in a midnight marathon race, placing somewhere in the first 300 people out of at least 10,000 participants. I didn’t believe it myself, given I was riding about a mile per hour slower than those around me, until at the end point I watched a nearly endless wave of people that were behind me. Had I not been humbled by those experiences and still thought I was the best out there, I likely would’ve gassed out in the first 10 miles without even carrying the gear I did. Instead I finished with energy to spare, out sprinting several other better equipped riders to the finish line (with the full field mechanic kit to boot, heavy stuff), then piloting a sound bike for a buddy that cramped out climbing a hill. As an aside: sound equipment on a bicycle is goddamn heavy, and the guy also made it the full 26. Props to him.


To chase goals, whether set or held by others, you have to look at yourself as not there yet. It is the height of arrogance to believe you are your only competition. To be humble requires input from others, whether directly as in a teacher, or indirectly as in a record. To be motivated to improve is to be humble enough to realize there is still work to put in. In short, don’t worry about being shown up by people: it only shows you have more to do in life. And after all, what would life be like if you already mastered everything? 


Part 3: In Memoriam

“Don’t consider this a divorce; consider this a funeral.” – Rob Says

Ran across this graphic while replying to @robsays_’s newsletter, and that, along with what he had to say about “helping women” out. Short summary if you haven’t subscribed to it: don’t help women improve; she’ll take those improvements to another guy. The following is a message sent to the late Bowl Of Chaos. No, this does not paint me in a good light, and it may make you think less of me. That’s O.K. Though some of what I share with you may sound boastful and nigh unbelievable, I share what I share because it is the truth and it may help out someone that comes across what I have to say. This is no different, even though it shows my own foolish actions and the consequences that followed; the goal is to be open not just with my accomplishments but my failures as well, so you may be the wise man and learn from other’s mistakes, including mine. Hopefully this helps you not do what I did:

(Ever give a girl such a good time in bed she wanted to write you a song afterward?)

I’ve thought about it,and decided you can keep the air mattress. It’s a top of the line one I got when the Hot Russian Ex and I moved into this place a few years back to get us by until I could get us an actual bed, at least at the time I bought it. And honestly, you’ve earned it: you not only gifted me but brought over the beer fridge I have to this day; thanks again so much. Funny enough, my new device just arrived to replace this one, which is on it’s last legs as far as operability goes: has been a real pain in the ass to use lately. Somber as it is, rather fitting that this will be the last message I send from this device.

Not gonna lie: I miss Bowl Of Chaos. She was great from the get go: we spent plenty of time just talking and getting to know each other before we got into bed together, much like the religious folk say you should do before you get married to see if you have more in common than wanting to get in each other’s pants. And get along we did: we had more in common than either of us thought we did. Nutrition, relationships, many interests that go beyond the scope of this essay; suffice it to say we were more than compatible. We also went through quite a bit together: trading info back and forth, your ex tracking you down to my place through your phone then pulling my number off of yours, your entire family hating my guts, coming to your rescue when even your “friends” wouldn’t, making time for each other with wildly different work schedules, being there for you through several tragic and traumatizing events; the list goes on, and some would’ve broken a lesser couple, but somehow we endured. This, among other things, is why it was so confusing to me why you essentially broke things off a few months back, even though for a while you kept in touch as no nothing had changed. It is what I have learned since then that explains what happened, though given I am writing this, I learned far too late.

(She wrote that unsolicited.)

A long time ago, during dinner at my folks’ place, I was making the case that men and women were equal. My mom quickly said “that’s your first mistake.” Didn’t know what she meant at the time, but after all these years I’ve been forced to concede that she was right: men and women aren’t equal. And in no other category is this true than in romance: I’ve said before that men love externally (meaning objects like cars, property and beautiful women), while women love internally (meaning things that go or come from inside them like their partners and children). But it goes deeper than that. While men can objectively love something or someone, women mold themselves to men they truly fall in love with: emotionally, physically, biologically, almost symbiotic like. She, in effect, becomes a new person, different from the one she was before, one whose primary purpose in life is to please and support her man and raise his children. “You were my everything.” That statement, like many others, didn’t come from nowhere: you had truly pair bonded with me. I truly was your everything, and you gave all you had to me. And for my part, I did everything I could to keep us together. Everything I did, from keeping her at arms length for a while, to not proclaiming her as exclusively mine, was to no do what torpedoed my last relationship. I really believed we had something special, and sought to preserve it as best I could.

Was. Were. Gave. Had. It’s all past tense now. It’s past tense because the person known as Bowl Of Chaos is dead. And I killed her. Just like Hot Russian Ex, her blood is on my hands.

(Exactly one year ago from the above message. Crazy timing we always had together.)

When women pair with you, bond, commit, fall in love, whatever you want to call it, they truly give themselves over to their man: their will, their preferences (for the most part), and their agency. It’s no mistake that women that are infatuated with a man will totally be interested in the same things he’s in, or when asked where they want to eat will respond “I don’t know, what do you want?”. Crude examples, but true nonetheless: women are biologically programmed to be dependent and supportive to men. Doesn’t make women worse than men, it just makes them women. It’s that truth that I rejected for a long time, to both my own detriment and my partners’ demise. In trying to treat both Hot Russian Ex and Bowl Of Chaos as equal, I was giving them back their agency as they were trying to give it to me, helped give them direction and autonomy when they looked to me to provide them. That behavior on my part, though it helped them physically and financially, is toxic to women, and if you don’t catch on to it in time, it will destroy any relationship, killing her in the process. And that’s what happened here: it poisoned the bond between us: slowly, surely, and ultimately, fatally. The body lives on, and the core characteristics of the woman remains, but the person she was with him has perished, leaving her a new, broken woman, who will survive as best she can, until she finds a new man to lead and provide for her, if she even still has the ability to pair bond again.

(Don’t think she has much of a chance after this.)

That last part is very important for women to hear, if they are smart enough to listen: it’s not like women forget relationships of that magnitude, as that was one of if not the most important phases of their lives. It’s why 1. Just speaking physically, but given we’re talking women here emotions and biology are intertwined, she’ll never forget the moments where she was best laid, particularly if they felt they might be conceiving: side track just to explain something quickly, it’s why Bowl Of Chaos had that particular kind of sex with me the morning after she saw me eyeing Oregonian Fire Bender Christmas night at Liberal Alpaca Wrangler’s house; even though her frontal cortex knew I was shooting blanks, her psychology was trying to get her body pregnant. Even if another guy comes close (no pun intended), that memory will always come back. It’s why, to explain a few things: a woman’s called you by another man’s name while in the throes of passion, she’s cold at best and repulsed at worst by anything you do after she breaks things off (no, I don’t expect Chaos to read this or the books I got her for her birthday: one was Curse Of The High IQ by @clareyaaron, the other was School Of Errors by @safetyPhD), (one reason why) women cheat, and related to that, why she’ll leave if a better prospect comes along. Again, this isn’t to demean women or Bowl Of Chaos: it was a vital survival habit for them back in the day, and particularly if she has children to provide for, a survival method for them.

(Body pic she sent me after seeing my phone has pictures of models on it. She sent plenty of other pics, which I will not share for obvious reasons.)

To bring it back to Bowl Of Chaos, the last time she came over was before she took her latest gig at a pot shop on her reservation, the best paying and easiest job she’s had by far, and one that had a better schedule for us to see each other to boot. Though we did talk and even saw each other for a while, she sealed up her vagina since then, and eventually said it was over: the body was warm, but the soul had since moved on, something I sensed when we kissed the last time I saw her. Did she find a better provider? Whether another penis is involved is debatable, as is if she found a group of work friends that provided “emotional support” and/or told her she “could do better” than what we had at the time, a common lie women tell other women. It should be noted that she led me on with being ambiguous about coming over on her birthday (I had presents wrapped and everything, likely the only person that had done so for her in years, another mistake), while she went and partied with her friends. However, it can be said that with said employment, along with the perks of cheap weed (why else would she rack up over $100 dollars even with a discount), not only provide better financially, but with cheap dope at hand help her with the anxiety issues she relied on me previously to help with, without having to put out for it; though I was the best she ever had and was in fact the one to give her her first orgasm through intercourse, and she enjoyed every moment of it and would seek it out, it is female nature to see sex as their physical currency, and if they can get the same benefit without having to fuck, they’ll take it. Don’t believe me? Look at the welfare state. Chaos is on it (side note, it also is no mistake that she divorced her ex after she got tribal benefits and housing), as is both her and my former communities. In short, it is after she found better security that she left shore, never to return.

(Body Comparison pic of Paige “Peanut” Michael,

It’s a damn shame, for her, but also for me as well. Just like with Hot Russian Ex, there were so many things I had planned for us, things I highly doubt she would get from other guys, especially now. Several restaurants and cider houses I wanted to take her to (she loved ciders), one of which was in walking distance and has since closed. Trips to places she has never been and are stunning to behold, including an island. Things I wanted to teach her. Games I wanted to play together. Wanted to help her pick out and learn to maintain a car. Hell, through one of my last diets I ended up losing abdominal fat I wasn’t aware I even had, which has the benefit of giving me almost an extra inch downstairs: after already being her best lover, how do you think she would’ve taken that? Just using Hot Russian Ex as a proxy, she was still physically into me even on her way out the door; I’m still sure she remembers the final 2 orgasms I gave her before she left (in fairness, I still remember the final 2 she gave me. Damn that woman was the best.) Again, another mistake. Sad as it may be, those plans will never happen, because Bowl Of Chaos is no more. Who I’ve been talking to since I don’t know. Chaos would’ve never, for instance, accused me of trying to emotionally manipulate her, lead me on about being together knowing full well she wasn’t coming over, receiving chocolates for Christmas without even saying she got them, or any of the other inexcusable behavior that has since taken place. But that’s not who was on the other line. Not the woman I cared for anyway.

I guess, to wrap this all up, is to say a couple of things. 1. I’m sorry. You went away because of my actions, mistakes I learned far too late. I did everything I could to help you become a better you, and killed you in the process. Whether whoever this reaches will understand that I don’t know, and frankly can’t care. 2. If you did read this far, do learn from all of this, and try not to make the mistakes I did. Regretful as it may be, it’s too late for me, and too late for her. Speaking of regretful, 3. They won. Your ex, the one that that tracked you down to my place and called my phone after hearing me please you in the way he never could through the open window? Your family that hated me for reasons including me helping you see their own manipulations and fighting back against it? Your friends that would’ve left you for dead at a remote bar after being drugged? They got what they wanted. We’re broken up, not even on speaking terms anymore. And that’s because you’ve passed on. It’s a fact that has been hard to accept, but accept it I have to nonetheless. You are no more, and you’re not coming back.

(Couldn’t resist sending her this!)

Not all is dark however: I will still have plenty of memories of her that I’ll cherish until my dying day. Making her laugh uncontrollably with random jokes I would come up with. Her reading my own articles back to me while I was on the way to work, the writing of which also brought you to tears of laughter (YOU FED RATS NOTHING BUT JERKY: WHAT DID YOU THINK WAS GONNA HAPPEN!?). Her, naked on my couch riffing on her guitar after a night at the bar. Just sitting in her car, talking until the sun came up. Fooling around in the park, again until sunrise. Finally getting busy in her back seat behind a 24 hour taco shop before helping her get off, before the cops came to check on us (still don’t regret waving at the old bat that called them). For that matter, just the sheer matter of mind blowing sex we had that often had her so disoriented she could barely walk to the bathroom (leading to my “hallway” being named “Bermuda’s Triangle”). In particular, the time her mom was in a parking lot outside and I pulled her back in bed to finish us both off, where she went from reasonable protest that her mom was waiting on her to her screaming “right there, don’t stop!”; didn’t even have tine to clean up, meaning I sent her home with mommy and back to her ex with a scrambled head, shaking legs and full of jizz (Geez, I wonder why they don’t like me….). Just being there for her when she needed someone that cared, bringing her from freaking out to smiling again; again, might have been a mistake on my part, but I’m not gonna lie: it makes me feel good as well helping someone I care about feel better when they’re down. And though whoever I am sending this to and is possibly reading this is someone else entirely, and like my other exes has since chopped off her hair, gained weight and likely has a tattoo now, I’ll always have the experience of being with the hottest native on the reservation, the best looking she was at the time and ever will, the most hot and ready, the most adventurous, the most caring, the most spontaneous and fun, and most thoughtful among other things; truly, the best the PNW had to offer. Though she’s gone now, she will live on on this mind, in memoriam.

Goodbye, Bowl Of Chaos. You were loved, are gone, but not forgotten.

“You don’t have to say anything.”


– Bacon <3

#143 #RIP

Part 4: Personality

“They’re waiting on YOU. And only you can give them you. – Vincent “Jello” Aiello

I had planned on writing a more thorough explanation about the show that featured, among other topics, what I meant by using the word “retard”. Along with the growing pains of working with a new device (that, for one, lacks a standalone notepad app the old one had as well as other handy doodads), I ended up re-reading @fighterpilotpodcast ‘s article on the Art Of Being Wrong (@two_penny_prince you would do well to read that a few times over); it is just that good, cherry on top being the headlining pic. Subsequently, due to my own laziness and the fascinating topics in Jello’s Musings page, I ended up reading just about everything written by him and others featured, including the screenshot featured. For more on that, you can find it here:

What seems like such a long time ago, I asked myself the same questions he did in the article. I’m sure @clareyaaron, @stefanmolyneux, @robsays_, @masculinegeek, @tjmartinell , @garyanddino, @mensroomlive, @bigangryphil, @child_of_truth, @npspod, @food.lies, perhaps even @tomleykisshow himself have asked themselves questions along this very line: what do I, compared to everyone else on the planet, have to say that hasn’t already been said? What do I have to offer that someone isn’t already doing better if not making a living doing so? And then I realized, about halfway through the 5th or so article, it wasn’t just what I was reading, it was by who.

Whether you agree with what I’ve stated on this platform or not (to your own detriment/demise and my entertainment), the reality is that this did not come from nowhere; everyone starts from some place. And though we may have some sort of foundation from which to start, we all get our influences from somewhere: in my case, my own mental “controlled crash” meant that, along with a lot of soul searching, other voices to listen to were vital, when I wasn’t even sure I had one of my own, let alone whether it meant anything to anyone else or not. Back then, that voice was Tom Leykis, who I pseudo grew up with. Later, that led me to Aaron Clarey, who later led me to the Stefan Molyneux and many other people from many other backgrounds. As I said, I didn’t come from nowhere: though I had years of arguing and debating experience prior to coming across most of these people, it was their works that help to inspire my own. I did a lot or reading, before I wrote. I did a ton of listening, before I ever cracked the mic (the word rhyme was too easy). Before I brought to you, the reader and listener, my own media, I was an avid reader and listener to it myself, and still am to this day. But, to circle back to the question earlier, WHY do I listen to and read the works of these select people? What attracted me to them in the first place?

They’re personalities. Yes, I meant to write they’re, though “their” certainly applies. I’ve said before that what truly separates the run of the mill human from people is their personality, something that makes them truly unique and stand out. Furthermore, it is their actions that elevate them above everyone else: you don’t leave a footprint standing in place. Through their own experience they bring value to others, including yours truly. In fact, had it not been for Clarey and the Stefbot’s calls to action specifically, you might have never had the chance to read this at all, because I wouldn’t have written it. It was they who inspired to get off my ass and say something for pete’s sake! After all, who else was gonna say what I had to say, let alone hear it?

Speaking of which, I am blessed to have made the acquaintance of quite a few personalities in their own right now doing what I do: imagine if I had not! But, as the nature of broadcasting goes in any medium, you never really know just who you’re reaching. So I’m writing this for you. Yes, you: and you know who you are. 1. Don’t be afraid to listen to different people, perhaps fearing others will judge you for it or paint you as one of “those people”: all they’re saying is they themselves are too weak minded to interface with other personalities without their own being overwritten. You can grow without tutorship, but it certainly makes the process less painful. More important: 2. Don’t be afraid to show your own personality, in whichever way you choose to: in print, in podcast form, or simply in person. It won’t be fantastic out of the gate: everyone sucks when they first start, hell, I still do! But who else is going to speak for you are? Who would be entertained or even benefit from your works? No one will ever know if you don’t.

I’ll quote myself with something I wrote spontaneously, that still hangs on the wall today:  “You don’t have to self-censor, you don’t have to pretend you’re someone you’re not. That freedom will either attract people, or it will anger them; it will do nothing in between.” Call me crazy, but as my following suggests, I’m more into quality rather than quantity, and in no other field is that more important than other people. Be who you are and be proud of it, if for no other reason than having the right personalities around. As Rob Says, you’re only alive for a very short while, then dead for a really long time. Do you really want to go out with the could of what could have been?

They’re waiting on you. Don’t make ’em wait until it’s too late. Kinda rude, don’t ‘ya think?

Part 5: Kobe Bryant

(I think the above suffices as a quote.)

And people wonder why I drive everywhere. This brings a few things to mind. 1. Not only did I go to aircraft maintenance school where, along with how to fix most forms of copters they teach you how they work and how they’re flown, I actually simmed in a few and worked in Robinson Helicopter Company (and am currently relistening to @fighterpilotpodcast’s show on helis for my walks to and from the bar: how’s that for coincidence?). Last time I was in one was with the Hot Russian Ex on a tour of the city (the only way you want to tour the city: from the air): same thing could’ve happened to us, and she wondered about that. Having knowledge on how rotary wing aircraft operate, I told her the procedure on what they do if, say, the engine goes out: basically they set the rotor to the equivalent of neutral to keep it spinning, glide it down to the softest flat piece of earth, and right before impact they set it to max lift and pull the stick back to slow it for the safest landing possible. Funny enough, as I was explaining this I got a handy viewing aid in the form of a trainer chopper performing the exact scenario. Both Robinson choppers by the way. I don’t think there are details on how the crash happened as of yet, so I’m sure this will be updated later on. For now, I have questions.

Second thing: I actually met Kobe as a kid: he came to my kid jail *edit by Instagram™* elementary school on a random Wednesday when I was in second or third grade to read a chapter of a book and give a motivational speech to us. As you can see, I don’t remember quite everything about that day, but 1. I didn’t exactly go to the hoitiest and toitiest of private schools: this was the closest school that would accept me, and not the best funded or staffed. I’m sure the stadium he played at’s close proximity might’ve played a factor, but that’s not something he had to do. And 2. I did get to talk to him, if only briefly. That quote up there is not one I’ve heard before, but given the interaction we had, and some of the stories I’ve heard since then, I 100% believe he would’ve said it, and meant it as well; he truly did try to inspire myself and the rest of us ruffians that packed into that multi purpose room to see him live. That’s the memory I’ll have of him, but more on that in a moment.

Three. Arron @clareyaaron said it best: “You are going to die.” Had it been me, having accepted that fact a long time ago, though in quite the different manner, I boarded that chopper almost 2 years ago with the thought I might not make it back, though I ruled that possibility highly unlikely. I seriously doubt Kobe and his daughter thought the same as they boarded their final aircraft. My death of choice being spontaneous combustion aside, the reality is that none of us really knows how we’re gonna die. Could be a sudden aneurysm. Could be a head on with a sleepy semi on a 2 lane road in the dead of night (true story: almost happened on the way back to June Lake. Hot Russian Ex was asleep, so she doesn’t know we almost died). Could be a heart attack due to picking up veggie sandwiches and eating them instead of heavy shit and putting it down. Could be on a helicopter ride with your loved ones on a Sunday morning. That ambulance that’s blocking traffic you’re in may one day have your name on it: here one moment, gone the next, often with no heads up; the grim reaper is so rude he doesn’t even knock half the time.

So that trip you want to take to see your family, meet those personalities ( like those assholes @garyanddino), or see that place you’ve wanted to see as a kid (like, say, Crater Lake to take a completely randomised example @athamaldecua), take it; work and bills will always be there. That skill like learning to play guitar or wrench on your own ride, take those lessons (or do what I do and jump in with both feet and a lot of noise: your live to live, no pun intended): Netflix and Disney+ aren’t going away anytime soon. Hang out with your buddies: Instagram and Facebook will still be in your pocket. At the risk of this being too soon, wanna learn to fly that airplane or chopper and get your wings? Go for it: there will be another brunch or happy hour to go to another day. In other words, live your fucking life, because you don’t know how long you’ll have it, and again as @robsays_ said, you’re only alive for a short while, and dead for a reeeally long time. And for that matter, as far as other people go, you don’t know when they’re gonna go either: I’m sure Kobe’s wife or other kids, let alone his other acquaintances saw that coming. What a tragedy it is to have been able to spend time with someone before they’re gone, and not taking that opportunity. I’m sure there’s at least one kid who is kicking themselves because they did. Don’t be them, if you can help it.

Take the shot.

Thanks Kobe. Though quite a bit of this random writing I do (funnily enough, after failing out of just about every English class I took. Teeeaaaaacheerrrrrsssszzz: go fuck yourselves!) is in part to help inspire others, it takes a bit of inspiration to do so, and I’m sure that day you came to my school and talked to us, talked to me, is part of why I do what I do here, and I can’t imagine just how many other kids you inspired along the way. Today nobody without the help of Google will remember the name of the woman that tried to ruin your life, but will remember the legacy you leave on this planet, on and off the courts. You were a prime example of “Do The Work”, and that will live on forevermore.

Thanks for the inspiration Kobe Bryant. Farewell.


Part 6: Self Defense

“”if you try to punch, I kick. If you try to kick, I grab a club. If you have a club, I grab a knife. If you have a knife, I grab a pistol. If you grab a pistol, I grab a rifle. If you grab a rifle, I run you over with my truck.”-  Unnamed police officer

Had a request for a reference lately for any sword training tutorials, and sadly there were none on here that I could find: even asked another martial artist if they had any weapons training forms and they didn’t have any either. I do find that odd, but given the flashy way martial arts is portrayed it shouldn’t be all that surprising. Guess I’ll have to do them myself. In the meantime, ever hear of NAP? No, not what black people get in their hair after sleeping: we’re talking the Non-Aggression Principle, and how self defense is integral to it. Confused yet? @madebyjimbob, who I do respect and think his works are worth checking out, certainly was. So, given Jim Bob, and indeed most people aren’t trained in any kind of real world combat, leave it to this old asshole, who not only is trained and is experienced in (unlike what you see on T.V. or in tournaments) actual combat martial arts, and spent the better part conversing with a local police officer about the legal and real world aspects of the art of self defense.

Let’s start with the Non Aggression Principle: what exactly is that? Should be self explanatory, but in simple terms (that people this emotionally disturbs will naturally will try to make complicated), it is the principle of non aggression, typically defined as not initiating force upon others without reasonable and necessary cause, the defined acts being assault, theft, rape and murder. We’ll leave the last 3 aside, as the first is the one that applies the most, and is the one employed first before the other 3 occur. To make this even more simple, it’s the everyday interaction you have with most humans and other critters: I think it’s safe to say most people reading this don’t go around raping and plundering the population, and probably don’t assault their local grocers while buying ingredients for avocado toast. In other words, it’s what everyone as a whole is already doing: we already see aggression as wrong. Where this gets subjective and murky is when legality gets involved, which is inherently forceful: what differentiates a principle and a law isn’t the application of force, both assume the act of retaliation when either are breached, but that while a principle like Non Aggression is pretty cut and dry at it’s core, laws can change rather quickly and somewhat randomly. Just ask Virginia right now at the time of this writing: almost overnight communists (you can say democrats, I’d rather call them what they are) were brought into power and they predictably declared about half of their population were breaking the law by owning “tactical assault style high capacity MAGAzine Military Style and other made up terms by anti-humans” firearms that were “legal” since are no longer.

This assumes one thing: that one group of people (the government) is above the other group of people (the average citizen), which is where people like Stefan Molyneux and others take the Non Aggression Principle to it’s natural conclusion in that it is inherently immoral for one group of people to be able to initiate force on another. You can argue against that fact all you want: everyone has the right to be wrong. But where Jim Bob and I appear to disagree on (see the above sentence) is how you defend yourself. To be fair, I do see his point in the meme he made, where should the state act upon most humans they would submit, perhaps even proclaiming their rights should not be infringed. My point was, in response to the caption, was that you don’t need to wait for force to be enacted on you for you to defend yourself: that’s a great way to end up in the hospital or in the grave. What I mean is that, given the perceived threat, pre-emptive striking is part of self defense.

With that in mind, here’s the discussion I had with the police officer (who happened to be a straight white male that didn’t immediately try to oppress me @two_penny_prince and @theetedsmith). Given the policy in pre-emptive striking above and that I made reference to the police’s policy of escalating levels of force against an adversary, something I was taught at my school, I figured I should do a quick double check to see if I was correct. In the trooper’s own words: “if you try to punch, I kick. If you try to kick, I grab a club. If you have a club, I grab a knife. If you have a knife, I grab a pistol. If you grab a pistol, I grab a rifle. If you grab a rifle, I run you over with my truck.” In other words, both Jim Bob agree that you overcome force with superior force: you don’t try to match force equally. At the same time, legally speaking, you don’t escalate unnecessarily: not a great idea to pull an AR-15 on a guy you’re arguing with at the bar. In fact, the police can be charged with manslaughter if they fired upon someone that posed no immediate threat, despite the stories that make the news in lieu of the many that don’t.

With that in mind, let’s get to pre-emptive striking as a form of self defense. First, let’s define assault, that being the most common means in which you’d need to defend yourself. Yes, escape is a viable means of self defense, and should be taken if available: this assumes that escape is not on the table. An assault is an act of aggression upon others, whether it is a physical strike or a move that simulates as such: you may have heard of or seen kids making each other flinch after feinting a punch. That is an assault, and you not only are legally authorized to strike them, but you are permitted under the NAP to do so; you don’t wait for that punch to be thrown because you don’t know if you can shrug that punch off, that is not a chance you should ever take, if not for you than for those that depend on you.

To make this more practical, should you not be able to walk away (or your assailant is following you), first give a verbal command to cease their advance before you are forced to defend yourself: your voice is your go to first line of defense given the opportunity to do so. It should be noted to not use the threat of death against them in the process, as this makes self-defence a lot harder to prove should the police get involved. It can be as simple as “I can hear you from where you are, please don’t come ant closer”, or as aggressive as “stay the fuck away from me asshole”, tailored to the situation. If the aggressor does not cease their advances, they have made it clear that their intention is to make things physical, and not in the way you want: you would be a fool to not retaliate before they act upon you. For example, in a situation the cop I talked to gave(in a stunning parallel of the one I had in mind), a girl is walking toward you armed with a knife or handgun: that alone is not enough to start shooting in her general direction. Your first move would indeed to draw your own firearm and draw a bead on her, while giving the verbal command to stop. If she does, then you deal with whatever reason this is occurring in the first place, and no further force as of now needs to be used. Should she raise her weapon or continues to advance, take the shot.

In short: verbal commands first, force second should that not suffice to stop the altercation. That’s the standard the thin blue line, my own combat martial arts school, and our service members in the military uphold. Don’t you think you’re worth holding yourself to the same?

(This slithering fellow certainly thought so!)


Part 7: Winter

“Ask vegans first. What I’ve gained from providing proof all these years is the truth that humans will find a way to reason out any proof that goes against their current beliefs. If you think I am being genuine, great. If you’re skeptical but curious, I’m open. If you don’t believe me, so be it. But I’m done chasing ever moving goalposts designed to waste the most precious thing in life: my time. ”

Actual response I sent to a friend of mine that I sent the video of @joerogan giving his testimonial on taking the #worldcarnivoremonth challenge and the results thereafter, which is his most recent video at the time of this writing. This might be a bit of a weird start to a post titled “winter”, but I’ll try to tie everything up into one good package of thought. Will my attempt fail like the carnivore pizza I drunkenly tried to make last night? Probably, but it’ll still be damn tasty!

My favorite season. An acquired season, and definite not the most appealing to the eye depending on your locale, but my favorite nonetheless. There are quite a few reasons for this, not the least of which is that the region of the Imperial States of America I currently lair had it’s rainiest January in history and everyone else is miserable over it. Perhaps growing up in L.A., with it’s 386 straight days of sunshine way back when (I hear a different story from the folks these days), has had a lasting effect on me, but personally I love the inclement weather here, and honestly, I guess unlike decades last that gives the PNW it’s reputation for being grey and dreary, there are actual seasons here, and unlike every northern state east of here, it’s actually bearable pretty much every day of the year (thanks climate change!)! I guess that leads into the first reason, aside from my predilection of changing climate:

Human progress. It is the biggest of double edge swords, but let’s take the positive first. This life of luxury I live in, let alone most of humanity here today, would not be possible without it. Ever wonder why “the holidays” just so happen before the coldest 3 months of the year? It’s because, just a hundred years ago, that might be one of the last times you’d see the faces of some family members; it was not the given these days that the crazy uncle and sweet grandma was gonna be around to watch the sportsball bowl next year. Climate crisis retards may cry about it, but fossil fuels (creating quick energy on a whim), architecture, and transportation, both humans and the food and materials humans use, has all but removed us all from natural selection. Before all of this (I believe it was called a revolution of some sort of industrial variety), resources were scarce, so humans had to be conservative, not just politically but with society as a whole: you had to spend spring planting, summer harvesting, and autumn preserving resources you needed to survive winter, and even that didn’t automatically grant you another year, so you can imagine what happened to those that didn’t prepare. Back then, you couldn’t just be liberal, not just with other people’s resources through voting, but with simple things like leaving the lights on or the heater running: that electricity and gas would run out eventually, and you couldn’t just go down the street to the neighbors for another gallon (or way back when, logs of wood), because they needed it for their family. And hey, if resources got reeeally tight in a certain region, there might be some conflict to come over who gets to use said resources and who doesn’t. But, as The Great One says, without government, not only would there be no flat patches of asphalt on the ground, but warlords would raid and loot everybody!

(The H.M.S. Defiant. Yes, this vehicle saw service in June Lake during Ski Season.)

That brings me to the other edge. Just a quick example, but it’s so telling that I have to use it. Went to the bar last night, and treated myself to a couple rounds of Knob Creek due to a record night I had at work (quick plug: Rain-X, get it). Just to be clear, I don’t go to the bar to drink, I go there to talk to other humans and to sing: I drink far cheaper at home with the same or even higher quality liquor beer and wine at home (again, a side benefit of living in an advanced society). One of the patrons sitting at the end of the bar happened to be a fat white chick that spent the better part of an hour tapping away at her smartphone: why her race matters we’ll get to. As I do with most groups (sorry P.I.ers: I’ll talk to the guys, but a gender mixed group of you is way too volatile) I went to talk to her and another overweight black chick, noting in a joking way that I also came to a public place to type on my phone, a type of approach that at least knocks humans out of their haze and gets their attention. Her response: “oh did you think that would get you into our group here?” See, she thought I was hitting on her. Not to brag, but to make things clear, I’m 6’2″, long hair (for now) , very much in shape, in fact the most attractive person in the building by far, and that’s just my looks: I also killed it on the karaoke mic, at least on par with the tap group she was with that night, for whatever that’s worth; let’s just say it’s gotten me attention before. And she rejected what she thought was an advance to see her meat curtains? See, at least here, black guys, even attractive ones such as myself, have a stereotype of chasing fat white girls (that’s why it mattered), and white women take it in stride, or at least on their backs (shout out to Wiccan Dog Walker who not only fucked a bunch of black guys including yours truly before roping an IT nerd, but also added the fat to the fat white girl), so it’s totally plausible, in her mind at least, that I wanted to get in her size 26 jeans. … Yeah. I simply told her “that’s fine: every woman has the right to be miserable” and walked away.

That very short example with no side tangents aside, let’s step back and examine this specimen of the modern human species. Would this really have been a thing a hundred years ago, a fat chick (of any race really) not only in public, but proud about it? Do you think she could’ve hefted a bail of hay to a cow, or cook a breakfast from scratch for her husband and 4 children, let alone climb a flight of stairs in under 5 minutes? Perhaps, but let’s just say I have my doubts. Everything about this human, from her body to her attitude to the attention she got, is a testament to humanity being removed from natural selection, including the elements: the only thing that would’ve let her survive another year is burning off that excess of stored energy and making herself feminine enough for a real guy to want her around. But she’s just an example: there are plenty of groups out there that owe their very existence to not being subject to natural selection: feminists, environmentalists (ironically enough), hate whitey organisations, just about every political movement, and vegans just to name a few. Let’s pick on the vegans for a minute because they earned it and to tie it back with the leading quote. There was a meme a while back about vegans waiting for their harvest to come in January. If that sounds ridiculous, that’s because it is, at least to people that don’t live in the tropics. Maybe you could have a society of fruits living in, say, hawaii and not starve to death, but funny how even in an environment where edible plants fell from the sky do they also eat and celebrate meat. At the more frigid ends of the earth animals were all society had to subsist on, and dare I say thrive on: there is plenty of evidence out there that cooked meat (fire: kinda important for more than just staying warm) not only made us smarter, but made us human in the first place.

So when people cast doubt (another post entirely) on people just trying out just eating meat and other animal products (aka, meat) for a month, even when shown the empirical evidence, I find that funny. When they say they need to see blood work before they believe the results shown to their own eyes, I find that funny. Did they ask for blood work from friends that went pescetarian? Paleo? Mediterranean? Vegetarian? Vegan? Hell, the last one you really don’t need “blood work” to see why that’s a bad idea. And it’s not like I haven’t tried a specific diet or two of my own: I have a whole post about it under Nutrition Made Fun that needs to be updated. I find it funny because the one diet that I tried, just for a month mind you, that she wants to see blood work on, is the carnivore one. The one diet that not only made humanity but helped bring it to being THE apex predator. And she wasn’t the only one. Just another quick story: talking to a couple at the bar, they offered me some of their bar snacks, which I politely declined due to trying out the whole world carnivore month thing, to which the guy immediately said sounded like the worst idea ever, and after proving every one of his points wrong they simply said they “just didn’t feel that was right”. It should be noted the only healthy thing these vegetarians’ were snacking on was the mozzarella inside the fried oil and breading. Point being, we truly live in a clown world of retardism, one that would not last 39 seconds a hundred years ago. These days, if you want to progress, it really is monkey see monkey don’t do, and if the herd says you’re doing it absolutely wrong, chances are you’re doing it absolutely right.

Just one more side of that edge before we get back to the other one. Hard times used to show who you really were, should you survive them in the first place. Up here it’s been turned up so far you’d be right to wonder if there’s a knob in the first place, but in society today humans really can put up a fake persona and be outraged at just about anything they see or hear: I’m sure someone crapped their pants at the word retard and doesn’t know the actual definition. At the same time, they live in a diverse cultural community with tons of different belief systems they preach about being “tolerant” and “inclusive” of, many of which would not be so reciprocative of their own. Talk about ironic. Again, this would not exist if humans had to harvest and expend wood and meat wisely: not saying we shouldn’t appreciate those around us that are producers and family today despite their genetics or background, but there’s a reason we are a tribal species. Also, back then you had to be thick skinned and be straight to your fellow man about who you are and what your intent was for the most part: you couldn’t fake it and survive (or, up here, just hole up in your aPODment and be antisocial in general), and you had to take criticism without being offended; the cold doesn’t really care about your hurt feelings. The fact that any of this is a thing is because we’ve run out of real problems to bitch about, but I’ll tell you this: the water stops running, and not only would the petty politics go out the window, but you would see who people really are and where their true loyalties lie.

To not end on a dark note, there is one aspect of winter that I appreciate that I alluded to at the beginning. Again, locale aside, you know what winter does? It helps me appreciate the beauty of the other seasons. The new growth in spring. The heat of summer. The color of autumn. All different, all beautiful in their own way. All dependent upon the other. Winter may signify death, but all life requires it. And the strong, the smart, those that were tough enough to make it through winter, they got to experience and enjoy said beauty. What a time that must’ve been, what character that had to have forged. Do I regret not being born way back when? No, there’s plenty to be said about these days that are positive. As I said, I live a life of luxury compared to the royals of long ago. I enjoy every day I get to type these from the comfort of my own bed while naked. (you’re welcome for that mental image @mjrodriguez 😉 I get to wake up to hot coffee and talk to people around the world. I get to stock my fridge and freezers with all the food and drink I can fit in it. I get to travel thousands of miles round trip to see people I met on the internet. I get to heat and (literally) air condition my palatial estate and cook pretty high end foods with the cheapest energy on the planet. I could go on, but suffice it to say, despite the humans around me that suck, I have it pretty good, and I do not take that for granted. That also would not have been possible a hundred years ago. Will that continue to be the case in the future? That remains to be seen.

Winter is a reminder of the finiteness of what you have that most today have forgotten. Will fat chicks think they’re entitled to unlimited boxes of dunuts and attention? Sure, for now. Will vegans and other people not believe any evidence in front of them. You betcha, but only because society affords it. Live how you want. I’m just enjoying every day before the lights turn off.

(Including pictures of @daretaylorofficial)


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