My mother was complaining about how a documentary my father is watching is boring and he just went "well im SORRY that nobody's been RAPED and KILLED for your liking"

We live in such a ruthless, uncritical gynocracy that even the realization that the human race is going to go extinct because women hate men that have been artificially marginalized can't summon any other response than "we clearly haven't crushed men enough". I have no idea what the solution to a slavery this deep, this reflexive, is. This era deserves to be crushed beneath the boot of history and relegated to instructive, near-absurdist tales of just how dark life can become if women are given even an inch. Women are the enemies of mankind. To a woman, such things as "culture", "civilization", "other people", are mere artifacts of their self-interest. Appendages, at best.

My father was a factory worker for 38 years. The routine was invariable: he left at 5AM, came back at 9PM. He'd eat, shower, and collapse into bed. For decades, my only thought was: "I never want to become that man." To me, he was the archetype of boredom. No dreams, no hobbies, no conversation. An adult without spark.

Only now, at 40, looking at my own son's face, has the penny finally dropped. My father didn't lack dreams. We were his dream. Those freezing dawns were so I could have a new backpack at school. The exhausting overtime hours were the price of my college tuition. He wasn't silent by choice; there simply wasn't a single atom of energy left to form a word.

Father, forgive me. I judged you as "outdated", but you were the definition of honor. Today, I finally understand that that exhaustion was the greatest proof of love anyone can give. I am finally following in your footsteps.

I refuse to conform to the utterly degrading conventions, ideas and manners expected of people today. A decaying world will have no sway over my soul.

God sends small children into the world to expose men. You think you are holy until a three year old throws a bowl of cereal at the wall for the third time. You think you are patient until you have not slept for five nights straight, and the baby is still screaming. Every half man is found out by his own offspring. Children are judges, sent in miniature to read your verdict out loud. God could have judged us from the throne. Instead, he sent us toddlers. More effective.

Focus your time and energy on what you want to see more of.

Stop getting so emotionally attached and enjoy experiences with a person. Be friends. Be a moment in time. Be a memory. You don't have to fall madly in love with everyone who comes your way. Just enjoy their presence for your moment together.

This is one of the worst advice ever. Be emotionally attached and passionate in love and go all the way. Let love consume you fully, even if it ruins you. Think all the strange, impossible scenario you want, but be passionate when you do it. If you fall in love, go all the way. Do not half-ass something sacred because you are afraid of suffering. Stop calculating outcomes. Do what you want with ferocity, with all your heart, and pour your love into it without self-protection. Do not keep trying to save yourself from the very thing meant to undo and enlarge you. Love was never supposed to be approached with caution. It asks for abandon.

My body viscerally, with physical symptoms, rejected the concept of having a job or going to school. Every night that I had to set an alarm to get up "on time" my body would force me to stay awake out of adrenaline and anticipation, only when I could sleep knowing I would not be awoken did my subconscious grant me peace.

I am fundamentally, to my core, magnetically opposed to slavery. I get literal physical NEET withdrawal symptoms from forcing myself to conform to normie goycattle life. I had no choice but to find a way to make money clicking on the computer because I physically could not survive otherwise.

I have no idea how you wagies do it every day, something in your soul was either not there or was crushed by your masters. How broken of a spirit can you possibly have to wake up to that shit everyday beats me.

I'm going to bed, I'm not setting an alarm, I'm not going to work tomorrow, I haven't aged in years. Goodnight.

I got invited to play a game and after 10 minutes they said their other friend wants to join but we're full and they asked me to leave.

Aren't most people wonderful and innately good? It truly is a blessing to live on this earth. "I love being alive," I unironically say this to myself every day multiple times now, it has become kind of a meme, or a tic. It just happens when anything mildly good occurs, like when it's cold and I get into the hot shower, or when I start peeing after holding it in for over an hour. "I love being alive," as I press the red button and see that 58% of people pressed blue. Most people are wonderful and innately good, yes.

I've indulged in as many vices as I can, yet I can never get a hang of it. Clubbing is stupid. Smoking is embarrassing. Doing drugs is pitiful. Womanizing is draining and pointless. I'd rather be buried in piles of work.

Socializing would be so much easier if there was an affection meter on top of everyone's heads.

If you're half-in, you're actually all-out. Even 90% in gets you nowhere. There's something magical in that last little bit. It's where you unlock new levels to the game. Once you finally reach some faggots' second hole he'll be your bitch forever.

A man who has never tasted the edge of his own ending will never have anything useful to say about living. Fear the man who speaks softly about good things, because he learned it kneeling next to something terrible until he understood its name. You cannot be wise from safety. The only people worth listening to are people who walked into the black and walked back out, with eyes that see differently now. Everyone else is just repeating things they read.

It's possible that irony is the same sort of mechanism as the array of infinite choices that are presented in the post-industrial economy. Keeping oneself in a perpetual state of irony or sarcasm allows a person to distance themselves from even their own words and behaviors, keeping them free to recant at any time, or to deny that they ever meant anything at all. Just as dating apps and Instagram keep one from being locked into a certain partner, just as constant consumerist slop keeps one focused on upgrading, so irony preserves the distance from conviction that allows a man to be hyper-mobile in his opinions and actions.

We are no longer called to choose something and defend it, steward it. The problem with conviction and passion is that they lock you into a behavior, into an outlook, into being a certain type of person. Abandoning the mobility enabled by irony creates an opening for the modern man's worst nightmare: appearing foolish.

Over the course of a lifetime of avoiding earnestness and passion, we should find people with immense depression, who know neither who they are, nor why they are here. They have drifted throughout their whole lives, avoiding putting an anchor down anywhere, in case they make a wrong decision, in case something better comes along.

The mechanism for anything worth doing in life is pretty simple: evaluate options for a brief period of time, make your decision, and make it the correct one. This rule applies across employment, love, hobbies, etc. It is not our job to find the perfect garden; our job is to take a garden and make it perfect through our dedication to it, through our earnest and honest commitment to it.

Irony and infinite choice preserve optionality, but leave one adrift, wondering why he has never found a home. The answer is simple: he has never made a decision and forced himself to live with it. He is battered by the wind and the waves, never finding shore; all it takes for a modicum of stability is to put an anchor down but the anchor prevents him from searching any further, and this the modern man cannot abide.

The ironic man can never be wrong, but then again, he can never be right either.