What a minute isn’t Brazil the place where string bikini’s are the norm?….where plastic surgery is cheap?….and readily available…where topless is ah, the ‘cool’ thing?
Then why is skinny Paris Hilton causing an uproar?
Come on!
Okay….Here’s the link for the ad…..
and Here’s the piece……
Brazil, home of topless beaches and wax, may have finally found something that offends its sexual sensibilities: Paris Hilton.
Brazil’s in-house advertising regulatory agency Conar is conducting three separate inquiries into whether Hilton’s ad for a new Brazilian beer, Grupo Schincariol’s Devassa Bem Loura, violates the country’s advertising codes by using sex to sell an alcoholic beverage and treating Hilton as a sex object.
Now who’d do a thing like that?
Hilton’s one-minute spot for the new beer, whose name is Portuguese for “Very Blonde,” debuted last month during Carnival. It features Hilton, in a tight black dress and indeed looking very blond, taking a beer from the fridge and running the cold can down her body.
Because she’s doing this behind a full glass window, a photographer in another building begins snapping her picture and a crowd gathers below to watch.
Since when have you EVER expected Paris Hilton to tread softly?
She hasn’t been snapped up in any bar b*tch fights, cheesy photo ops, or vag slips recently. See. Just because the whole WORLD has seen you drunkenly attempt the reverse cowgirl to no avail doesn’t mean that you can’t RECLAIM your tact.
Oops.
Spoke too soon.
Nah, I’m kidding at least she had enough common courtesy to put on some panties,for whoever used the VIP booth next.
Things got dramatic at Paris Hilton’s birthday bash in Los Angeles when her boyfriend, Doug Reinhardt, got into a fight with her ex, Brandon Davis.
Onlookers said former “The Hills” star Reinhardt squabbled with Hilton, and then had a screaming match with notorious party animal Davis during her 29th-birthday bash at Tea Room on Thursday night. A witness said, “One minute, Paris and Doug were looking all loved up; the next minute, they started bickering.
“Doug didn’t seem happy about all the attention she was getting. Paris started to pout and gave him some girly punches in the back before storming off.
“The next minute, Doug was shouting at Brandon. The music was so loud that we couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he then got Brandon thrown out of the door.
“By this point, Paris had had a few drinks and was dancing around with her sister, Nicky. But she and Doug were looking all romantic by the end of the night.”
Another witness said, “Brandon arrived unexpectedly and appeared to be really wasted. He started causing a scene and talking trash to Doug’s friends, so they all decided they should have him kicked out. Doug and his friends own that club, so it was their choice to get Brandon out.”
Hilton, who’s been dating Reinhardt for over a year, was linked to hell-raising oil heir Davis in 2006, and they have since remained off-and-on friends.
A source close to Hilton said, “Paris has never dated Brandon. She has known him since she was 2 years old. And Doug made a lovely speech about her during the night in front of her friends and family.”
A rep for Reinhardt didn’t return calls, and Davis couldn’t be reached.
Hilton — who just got back from a trip to Rio de Janeiro, where she was unveiled as the face of Brazilian beer Devassa — was due to continue her birthday celebrations this weekend with a party at her parents’ home and a bash tonight at Tao Las Vegas.
-”The BklynBandette.” Mr. Hollywood’s Co-Defendant.
You’ve seen the signs coming on and off the freeways, right?
“Will Work For Food. God Bless.”
Well, here are some the ones you’d see from today’s stars…IF they were holding signs by the on and off-ramps.
JOHN MAYER: Will stop being a douchebag for food. …PSYCHE!!!
HEIDI MONTAG: Will stop getting plastic surgery for food. “Uh, paper or plastic? My favorite, please…PLASTIC!”
PARIS HILTON: Will “eat meat” for food. Like - oh my god!
NICOLE RICHIE: Will eat something for food. God bless.
JESSICA SIMPSON: whill Lurn howe too sphell four food.
PRESIDENT OBAMA: Will be more specific for food. God Bless America!
JOE BIDEN: Will shorten my sentences for food. See apparently people think I elaborate too much on issues that don’t really know much about. I say they’re wrong because everyone knows something about something, and if they don’t, well, then they can learn something from nothing! See where I’m getting at? No?! Okay well…God Bless Ya Anyway.
BETTY WHITE: Will Run For US President For A Snickers Bar. God Bless St. Olaf!
MEL GIBSON: Will Pretend To Like Jews & Give Back A Quarter of Malibu For Food. God Bless Non-Jews.
ANDREW WISOT: Will Stop Writing These Stupid Posts For A Job. SOMEONE HELP ME…………..
*****
This post is purely a parody and for entertainment purposes only. Yes, of course Mel Gibson doesn’t hate hate Jews.
Andrew Wisot is a freelance writer for The Jay Leno Show The Tonight Show with Jay Leno and an US Weekly Fashion Cop who’s “between jobs.” Andrew will blog for LOLs until he’s employed again or 50,000 miles, whichever one comes first.
nowadays , all celebrities and stars tries to launch their own fragrance. the true goood perfumes are just those few, hugo-boss, dior-addict, jadore.
then comes celebs with their fragrances…
and also people like paris hilton
unlike her, her perfume aren’t cheat, it is priced at erm close to £27 pounds sterling i think
ironically, i somehow find her elegant sometimes. perhaps its her innate hilton-ness.
then there is this Britney spears. its a while ago….i know
when she sings she sounds like she have snuffly nose, like she needs some decongestants or something , get some Sudafed will ya.
OHhh yea.. lets not forget its the same britney spears the bald one
si botak
i think she call her perfume ‘believe’ is because perhaps she believe her hair can grow back , and perhaps will keep believing she will get her child custody back from K-fed.
yes. this is a new fragrance by TIGER WOODS. the tiger woods, that have affairs with a string of women including porn star holly sampson, a waitress,
the fragrance is called ”adultery” . the motto is ” you need golf balls to play golf but you need real balls to be a play boy” ;
Tiger woods ” try my new fragrance. i am very good at hitting balls with a stick into holes, but i am also good at sticking my stick into holes…. and i got slapped by my wife consequently, anyway sorry for my rude language buy my fragrance, i need to raise lots of money for my expensive divorce!”
i’ve tried it , yes me stephen tong, and his fragrance smells like sweat.
john terry, the would be england’s football captain . have launched his own fragrance as well, ohhhhhh yes. this randy bas****. he calls it Betrayal. i bet his wife toni is reallly pissed for him to cheat on her ….. he have been kicking balls in the fields for chelsea and bring home £100,000 per week , but now it seems like his wife toni really feels like kicking him in the nuts, hopefully he will keep his pants on more often.
guesss how the fragrance smells like, it smells like sweat again.
NOW , if someone really deserves her own perfume, i think it should be Cheryl Cole. thats what i called a talented star.
damn she can sing. and she is a better judge than perhaps simon cowell, seriously , i dont know what credentials this simon meany has, i think i singer should be judges, kylie minogue should be the judge than danni because duhhh, kylie minogue can sing…. does simon even sing?
anyway. back to cheryl. if she launches her own perfume, damn it, i will be waiting in line . hohohho. even if she’s sticking labels over mineral water bottles
i will buy cheryls perfume , even if it means i have to fight fight fight fight, fight for this loveperfume …. splash ’the perfume’ to my arm pit, my fore arm, my crotch and my neck…
of course i will check for the genuine logo. its cheryl pointing two fingers.
here’s the zoom of the label.
Existence doesn’t have to be inherently evil. There are imaginable societies in which it would be a blessing to exist. Is what I want utopia? Well its one thing to say that the factors needed for my happiness are beyond personal. But what exactly would be my place in a utopia? By definition all ideological questions would have been settled. So the discussions at town meetings would basically be garbage collection issues. So there isn’t any important political life to speak of. Philosophy comes to an end when subject and object are united. Philosophy in utopia would be somewhat similar to the roles analytic and deconstructionist philosophy play today. There would be no new philosophy that could not be merged into neuropsychology. And so the role of the philosopher would be that of a linguist, analyzing and deconstructing the language behind philosophy. Art is no longer developing because the message of art is implicit but philosophy has already made everything explicit. So basically art, literature, religion are all merged into philosophy which in turn dissolves into linguistic self-analysis.
I don’t know. I just don’t think that I can talk myself into thinking I’m already living in a utopia. If I did, the only result would be to make me hate utopia.
I’m like a Nickelodeon cartoon victim coming up with plots to destroy fun. Well its not that I value unhappiness. So it it just that I have a very strong harm principle? This is the basis of libertarianism, but for them harm means physical attack. So am I just taking the principle that consenting activities for pleasure are OK so long as no one is harmed, but taking a very strict standard about what is consent and what is harm?
Since I’ve cut myself off, the Roissysphere is my only window to the outside world. That may make the world seem more horrible than it actually is. I mean if the point of isolating myself is to be free from humanity, then why read the views of precisely the cruelest humans?
Well if hedonist pleasure is not really pleasure, then why care that people enjoy it? I used to use the analogy of icecream. Yes icecream like sex is pleasurable, but what sense does it make to judge me lower as an icecream virgin because I do not indulge in a pleasure? Why is my moral worth judged by my sexual success? Well if being a virgin proves that I’m unattractive, then sex is irrelevant. I’m low because I’m unattractive, and anyone can see that with their eyes. IF I’m attractive, then that suggests I could have sex if I desired to, and so I’m not lower than an ugly who had sex. “Unless promiscuity is redefined to equal attractiveness. Well then who cares that I’m a virgin the real insult is that I’m ugly. Or is it suggested that I do not have the rhetorical skill, to convince a girl to have sex?
So is that personal? In that I’m a virgin, I would say by choice but a devil’s advocate would say that just a Freudian defense mechanism to never try and fail. So its just about personal honor? If people valued me for my self-discipline and considered me honorable and incorruptible, then I would be ok with lesser mortals indulging in carnal pleasure? Is all that I crave Hegelian recognition? I want to be recognized as someone who could enjoy pleasure, but out of discipline chooses not to?
But is there any reason to reject pleasure simply because it is pleasurable? Granted pleasure might distract one from higher duties. But that doesn’t make pleasure evil per se, just frivolous. If someone neglected duties in order to fiddle while rome burned, then fiddling would be evil in that case. But it doesn’t mean that the pleasure of fiddling is evil in itself, just that it was overvalued.
But if higher pleasures truly are valuable in themselves, doesn’t that mean that less competition is a good thing? More higher pleasure for me right? I would say the higher pleasures are inherently social. It is the difference between bittorrent and rapidshare. If too many people want sex/rapidshare the market becomes glutted, while the more people who seek virtue/bittorrent the faster the download. Its a sort of economy of scale.
Maybe I should look at people the same way as sovereign nations. Suppose I alone, as an individual, am a free sovereign commonwealth. And society is a gigantic empire. Now I could try to claim some land, and be isolationist. But my existence would be at the mercy of the giant who could crush me under his thumb. In that sense whatever costs the empire of society demands of me is the price of not being invaded. Tribute. The problem is individuals are not self-interested enough. If individuals really did know their self-interest it would be for all of us herd sheeple to get together and by sheer weight of numbers overpower our Ayn Randian betters. But if I regard society as one unified mass against me, then there is no we to speak of. So I’m kind of like a day-laborer from the Republic of One Man, who crosses the border into the USA everyday for work. And all my market transactions are trade between nations. Even if its unfair, what can a tiny republic of one man demand from a vast empire of 300 million?
Well lets say I can’t even imagine what a perfect biography would look like in this hellish world. What would it look like in utopia? The liberal arts are redundant in utopia, since beauty needs no reflection, life itself is aesthetic. That leaves only the hard sciences. Which I don’t have the talent for. And anyway is doing math equations my idea of utopia? Then I could just become an accountant. Well then it would be physical. Just bodybuilding and perfecting my classical beauty. Can’t I do that now? I mean I’ve had no job or school for the last few months. If utopia just means bodybuilding, why don’t I do that now. Its true that I only have a few months till I’m thrown out and meet my doom. But if I could live a few months in utopia wouldn’t I take it? Most of the glories I associate with utopia actually belong to the struggle for utopia, not utopia proper. So is it not that I’m angry that I don’t live in utopia, but that the utopian impulse seems to have been lost in the world? That people have become too settled with their lot? Is that in itself proof we live in utopia? Not really even the worst societies experiance long periods of calm. Still my misery comes from believing that this is not just a period of calm, but the Fukuyamaist end of history? So it it that this world is TOO utopian for me? That there is no longer anything great or noble to fight for? OR is it not the end of history that disgusts me but the place that it ended at?
Well until I explicitly say what my goal in life is, how can I blame this society from preventing me from achieving it? Well what if my goal is to live in a different society? You mean your goal is to fight? But that is precisely what you could NOT do if you already lived in utopia. And if that isn’t your goal, I ask once again what would you do in utopia? And if the answer is body-build, why don’t you do it now? If the answer is science, there is nothing particular to this society that prevented that. Even now you could switch majors if you wanted. Tell me explicitly what would be your biography as a citizen of utopia? You would make glorious speeches? About what? History? Garbage disposal? OR would you be satisfied with any job, so long as you were free of The haunting fear that someone, somewhere, may be happy? And if your fellow citizens would be happy. What exactly would be the higher pleasures they were enjoying?
Is it at the end of the day just Nietzsche spite? You as a herdman can’t accept the joy of the masters? Well what if it is? If one need not be ashamed of selfishness, then why be ashamed of spite, envy, jealousy? So you would be content to live the exact same material life you lead now, so long as no one else lived better? I mean you could just move into a neighborhood where you’d be the riches one there. OR look more seriously into hippie communes or a monastery.
Are you concerned about the victims of fun? That enjoyment takes place at others expense? Maybe thats why Roissy’s writing appeals to you so much, since it makes explicit your assumption that all pleasure is a sadistic zero-sum game, that must be extracted from the pain of others.
Well you tell me what YOU want. Well lets say you weren’t Robinson Crusoe. But you lived fairly isolated. Materially comfortable. And you had no social betters in your area. But a few thousand miles away, there were people way above you. You know of them, but your not bombarded with it in entertainment. So its just a factoid. Is that unbearable? No, but thats kind of a faulty analogy. Well isn’t that what you could enjoy in a hippie commune or monastery? Granted it may not be the easiest thing in the world to get into these days, but you haven’t even made a serious attempt. They seem to largely reflect your values. And your entire life would revolve around that community. You would be distantly aware of another world, but you wouldn’t really be part of it. Its like the argument I had about joining the army. I said well maybe the enemy isn’t a threat to America, but they aren’t very nice people, so theres nothing wrong with fighting and killing them. And his reply was yeah but its irrelevant, its like fighting muggers in India. I think thats a good analogy. Are you going to fly to India to fight muggers? From a hippie commune or monastery, mainstream America may come to seem as far away as muggers in India. Now IDK. But maybe you should at least look seriously and see if that’s the case.
But lets face it your not biologically fit to survive in any past age. You could never be a soldier, and thats what all your civic republicanism is based on. You would have been weeded out of all past ages, including your admired ones. Well there are intellectual heroes. But I mean, you do enjoy the comforts of modern civilization. You condemned Ovid for saying he enjoyed the softness of the Empire over the virtues of the Republic. But if your so afraid of cruelty, remember that it is heroic ages that inspire the most. Even if your side can do no wrong, a chaotic age opens up the doorway for the enemy to win and impose far more cruelty than he does now. Do you want to live in a chaotic age? It is during those times that the road to both heaven and hell are opened, and you roll the dice.
Is this all useless? Are you just going to cross your arms and say as long as people have a good time, I refuse to put up with work? If its just that you don’t want people above you, you could become a hedonist yourself and equalize the pleasure. IF the pleasures are false pleasures, then you have nothing to concern yourself with. And if there are victims of their pleasure? Well they are no more victims than you are because you have to get a job. So since your the more victimized, it should be about you and your job and not Tucker Max. Girls don’t have to clubbing. Granted theres a lot of societal and cultural pressure. But theres even more pressure that a young man should have to get a job. And in addition to that you starve if you don’t. So you should feel more sorry for yourself, that you have to get a job. And yet you feel more strongly about the over-sexualized society than your relations with your boss. You’ve even said you would work for a boss, if you lived in a more uptight society. And yet even in an uptight society, your relationship with the boss would be less voluntary than little miss Ayn Rand’s with Roissy and Tucker Max are. In otherwords it would be a lot easier for you as a girl to avoid even meeting the Tucker Maxes of the world, than it would be for you even perhaps especially under puritan capitalism, to avoid having a boss. Do you see the contradiction?
Not to say there are no victims of hedonism but that shouldn’t be used as a reason not to get a job, since the job decision is at a higher degree of coercion. It would be like a prison immate saying the reason you don’t want to be in prison is because your so depressed by the idea that high school kids are stuck in school all day. So again I’m not justifying society per se, it just doesn’t make sense to refuse a higher evil because a lower evil exists. Now it may be in fact just to oppose both evils. But you reason for opposing the higher evil, shouldn’t be knowledge of the lesser one.
But you yourself have said that its not having a boss in and of itself that must be evil, its having a boss in this society. But the sexualization of this society that prevents you from getting a job, it may or may not be coercive, but a girl won’t starve if she doesn’t go clubbing.
So think it over. Not that this closes the debate. But maybe you should focus more specifically on why you don’t want a market relationship with the boss, as opposed to why little miss ayn rand shouldn’t want a market relationship with Tucker.
“Your dumbass dog is at it, again,” announced my pregnant wife one night early on in our marriage. Lovie was referring to my faithful chocolate lab, Briggs.
What, exactly, was Briggs doing, you ask? Slowly, steadily, and silently releasing dense clouds of noxious gas. Pockets of reprehensibility so flagrant as to even be equipped with their own (and noticeably different) barometric pressures. Tiny, malodorous weather fronts of filth which were greatly disgusting my lovely wife. I looked over at my hound only to find him sprawled out on his bed, his mouth eerily agape, snoring like a bear.
Birggs
That’s right. Briggs was sleep-farting.
And he’s got other bad habits, too. Like going certifiably ape-shit each and every time an outsider bursts our domestic bubble. A knock at the back door, the ringing of the front doorbell, or even a barely audible conversation between two women taking a leisurely neighborhood stroll is enough to send Briggs into a frenzy. A full-blown gallop ensues, throw rugs helplessly askew in his wake, Briggs sliding out of control with each and every change of direction his dash requires, eventually culminating in his breathless arrival at wherever the action is, panting with desperate impatience while shamelessly rocking a solid inch-and-a-half of pink lipstick as he awaits our visitor with… um… excitement.
As soon as said visitor enters the house, Briggs’ll make a bee-line for the toy bin and deftly snatch whatever’s on top, before galloping back to his new friend with the welcome gift he’s selected, wrapped thoughtfully in his slobber. He’ll then circle our dumbfounded (and slightly frightened) guest with speeds that conjure up images of the Tasmanian Devil until he feels it’s just the right time to engage in a little world-class crotch-sniffing.
And I haven’t even touched upon his legendary dirty-diaper escapades. Briggs makes Marley look like one of Paris Hilton’s lap dogs. So the fact that Lovie was having a hard time adjusting to him early in our marriage wasn’t surprising at all. What was surprising, however, was that not only did she eventually accept Briggs, she also ended up liking him.
Pookie and Briggs during one of his calmer moments.
Briggs’s birthday is in December, and as each holiday season approaches, Lovie and I wonder if enough dog years have passed to notice a decrease in his high energy level. This year was sure to be the one, right? After all, he’d be seven. But, if anything, his energy level was even higher thanks to our broken invisible fence. Without it, we couldn’t even let Briggs go outside to blow off some steam without fearing he’d leave our property, barge into an unsuspecting neighbor’s house, and start dry humping their four-year-old.
So his outside activities were limited to bathroom-related engagements only. At least that was the plan. The actual outcome was that Briggs made countless escapes. No fewer than eight different households came to our assistance with either a phone call alerting us of his whereabouts, or in two cases, front-door delivery.
Everyone was very nice about it, but Lovie and I were all too aware that we had likely become “those neighbors.” In our minds, three two-year olds is pretty much a good enough excuse to let anything slide a little bit. But it’s not like others realize what we’re up against. (except for one family–shout out to the Huneycutts) So I was always embarrassed whenever we got one of the dreaded phone calls and often turned to humor as a way of masking my shame.
Ring-ring.
“Hello.”
“John, it’s Anne. I think I see Briggs across the street in the Baker’s yard. He’s sniffing around their nativity scene. He’s right beside the three wise men.”
“Well, at least it’s comforting to know that he’s keeping good company, right Anne?”
We finally got the fence fixed in January. But our relentless brown hero has grown so enchanted with his neighborhood jaunts that he’s decided such strolls are easily worth the jolt of electricity he’ll endure as he hurdles through our invisible barrier to embark upon one. So we’ve been keeping him inside again, unless, of course, it’s time for him to use the bathroom. But having been burned in the past, we’re often skeptical when he whines as if he needs to go. Ever the clever hound, he’s taken to offering up undeniable proof of his plight via large piles beside the side door.
And that’s where we are right now. At just two and a half years old, all three of our little guys are going poo poo in the potty while their dog is droppin’ the deuce on the kitchen floor. I wonder if we could somehow teach Briggs how to use the toilet.
Nobody reads this blog. Which is I suppose a good thing. If I wanted advice I could just post in forums. I think only I can answer my own questions. So if its just me talking to me, thats fine. I suppose once my dad throws me out, and I run out of cash and am doomed, this blog will be my legacy to the world. Not that I expect a Second Renaissance to come out of it. As Thomas More said, all the kings can read Plato, Aristotle, Augustine whenever they want. Heck Jesus was the official ideology for the last 2000 years, his doctrine isn’t perfect, but its good enough. If men behaved like that gentle lamb Jesus, then maybe banning divorce wouldn’t be slavery.
Simmel argues in philosophy of money that means have been separated from ends. That we have lost any hope of some divine goal, and since any longterm goal requires money, our focus becomes the practical issues of how to get wealth. Simmel says competition is not just social darwinism since it is also about winning the third party. He says the only parallel to the market is love, in which you become aware of your lover’s needs and desires before she even realizes it. He also says money turns people into a more metaphysical people. All fuzzy emotions are stripped away, and we must judge and value everything. The dream of Pythagoras comes true and everything has a number.
How did my means get so divorced from the ends? In the end, the ends killed the means. Since I became so fanatical and then despairing, that I could not even advance my pure ends.
I had a pretty miserable childhood. Although that is largely objective, and not subjective. I hated 1st grade, when basically the entire class picked on me. But after that I was basically just ignored. I used to think that everything just went wrong in 1st grade, bad luck. And that if it wasn’t for that, I’d be “normal”. But I looked back on my Kindergarten report card, and the teacher suggested I learn how to make friends over the summer. Its true that I’m naturally introverted but when I finally did make a friend in 2nd-4th grade, I learned I could be a naturally funny guy. So while its not just bad luck, I don’t think my childhood had to be as isolated as it was. On the other hand I never really had a friendship as intense and strong as the one I had 2nd-4th grade. Even during my most phony “popular” days of high school I never had a friend like him.
So I was naturally drawn to adventures and superheroes. And as I grew older Barney, Disney, and Superman were replaced by General Patton. Was becoming a military buff a bad thing? Well it gave me a grand goal in life. It made academics something I wanted to do for me, not my parents, for the first time got me interested in physical strength and it encourage an ultra-machismo. Patton can’t be blamed if the trait of his I most absorbed was love of military history.
So in some ways I messed up in 6th grade when I made my big splash as the mysterious new kid. I was waay over the top. Basically my act was paranoid schizophrenic. One time I slicked my hair back and brought in a picture of Ronald Reagan for comparison I was wild. And it worked. I had the whole lunch table listening to my stories. I organized the guys on an expedition where I was going to “harass” the popular girl. It sounds awful now. But I only did it because I still saw the world like a Superhero, she was a bully because she biatch slapped people, and I was a hero for standing up to her. So I went from a total loser, to having popular girls literally chasing me. It was a highpoint, but to a large degree an illusion.
I can’t speak for certain, since so much of my memory is just myth. But from a few objective moments, I say I probably could have turned this delusional popularity, into real friendships. Part of the problem is that I actually wanted to remain this detached mystery man. And part of the problem was my new military mission in life. In this my military buff played a decidedly negative impact.
What was my grand ambition? That I would become totally self-disciplined and driven. A New Patton. I would go to West Point. If I didn’t rise high in the ranks, I would still enjoy a life of unity and adventure that the modern world missed out on. But the ambition was that I would rise fast. Russia would go Fascist as the new Weimar Republic fell. And then the Russian Hitler would make a bid for world domination. I would be a young mid-level officer in some backwater front, but my Napoleonic genius would turn the tide. By the end of the war, I would be the Captain in Chief, of the entire United Nations Army. Like MacArthur I would be assigned administration over defeated Russia. I would turn my private kingdom into a bright citadel of Athenian democracy. This New England town meeting writ-large would spread throughout the world. And a new world government based on puritanism, gun ownership citizen militas, New England town meetings, globalization, civic virtue, and economic corporate-republicanism.
Quite a grand ambition indeed. Delusions of grandeur. I had went through all of middle school and high school playing the character of a man who had already lived that dream. And so the pain I felt when I fell to earth.
Well at least then my goal was very clear and thought out. I knew exactly what my biography was going to be. I had a few replacement biographies in college, but none of them drew the same divine inspiration.
In the past incorruptible men were attacked for hypocrisy. Now it is precisely their purity that makes them dangerous and fanatical. They are attacked precisely because they are not hypocritical. They SHOULD enjoy wine, women and song.
Well if I knew what my goal was then it would be easier to find the practical steps to attain them. A world utopia seems impossible to take the first step outside of the military. American politics is a waste of time if for you its about ideas and not making sure garbage collection is on time. While I don’t really bond that concept of government the Founding Fathers deserve credit for creating a system which has lasted 250 years where government politics has been just about making sure the garbage gets picked up. While I may not agree with that goal, I have to admit they’ve been pretty successful in achieving it.
For a time I considered a law career. I read a bunch of mystery novels and watched law & order, to try to brainwash myself that a lawyer was really a private detective and I’d be fulfilling my childhood dream Batman. And law is the natural road to politics in USa. But I was too smart or too dumb to fail for it. IT just didn’t inspire the same iron discipline in me. Although for a few months, I was very driven to work out and fast a lot. Although its hard to see how thats connected to law, unless you take the Batman metaphor too literally.
You could just reduce all my “virtue” to a bad investment. While the MTV generation wanted immediate consumption, I invested and ended up losing everything. In that sense evil didn’t win, short-term consumption just beat out long-term abstinence.
The American dream of the house and white picket fence, 2 cars, and a wife and kids, just never appealed to me. Although at this point I wonder if I could get it if I wanted to. Perhaps since my blue collar parents had achieved it, I looked down on it and took it for granted.
In some ways EO Wilson’s R-K reproductive strategy helps to de-moralize everything, and put it in biological perspective. Basically everything I, and for the most part Western and Oriental Civilizations valued could basically be associated with the K strategy. While everything considered sinful could be considered R. Or in economic terms Nassau W. Senior’s abstinence theory of interest. In this sense morality means abstaining from pleasure and the Karma for this is profit. So all the bad guys are doing is articulating the R theory. Now for the most part they concede the values of K and even betatude, and credit the success of western civilization as being the most beta. But they say feminism has ruined everything. Feminism is the result of two things the labor market and birth control. These two things make the R less effective than ever. The R strategy has always been around, while sexual intercourse may have been lower for R before birth control, genetic success was far higher. The GOAL of R is actually stated by Roissy and Co as genetic failure.
I used to have a theory of attractiveness based on Adam Smith’s objectivist theory of value. I said that weight for both males and females is the absolute determinant of attractiveness, with other factors, primarily money, only acting as market distortions.
Which is more important in 2010 USA money or sex? I would argue money, since Roissy is in finance, and Tucker Max lives off his dad’s restaurant chain. It is true that there are low income Roissys in the ghetto, and while pop culture does praise them, they are not the rulers. Does this mean money should replace weight? I would still say weight is the natural equilibrium the market would drift to but the outside influence of money has no parallel in economics. I would rather believe that physical attractiveness and money are the sole determinants of attraction, than live in a hell where cruelty, sadism, and domination are “sexy”. And perhaps I do since IDK any ugly, poor, cruel dominating alpha males who have had any success. In life there are always exceptions, but they prove the rule.
From personal experiance in middle and high school I could fairly definitively say the Roissy worldview is false, the world isn’t as horrible as that, and girls are not that masochistic. It is true from my college experiance I’m ready to say Tucker Max rules the world. But I had no objectivity whatsoever in college. And basically considered any guy holding hands, Tucker Max.
So if life is better now for women than it has ever been in history even with Tucker Max breathing, does this mean my anger is just herd resentment? Well first-off its an insult to genuine nice guys to call me beta. I’ve never done anything nice for a girl in my life. Alphas have done more nice things than me as the tactic for getting into a girls pants. Well isn’t that Mises’ glory of the free market? Even the most evil men have to at least fake niceness, in this Neil Strauss is more accurate than most of the harder PUAs. You are providing a service, and no not being a caveman, if anything the PUA trend is towards metrosexuals. Like the entrepeneur who only wants cash, the PUA has to at least fake a service, and if its a good enough fake its real. So while in my inner-life I may be one of the nicest people alive, since I’m not in the market their is no pressure on me to do anything nice for girls, and I never have. And so the sexual free market, forces men far crueler than me to behave at least on the surface far nicer than me. And the appearance is reality.
Of course as Adam Smith pointed out market morality only develops when there is continued transaction, so that reputation matters. In the anonymous world of big-city clubbing, there isn’t visible Ebay feedback. But you can’t completely escape it. And I guess I ought to give girls the benefit of the doubt that they are not as stupid as PUAs make them out to be. That they are little miss Ayn Rands, pursuing their own interests, and they know what they want, and every bad transaction is just market information.
IDK if everything I just wrote is true. This an on-going argument between me and myself. This is point/counterpoint.
I guess part of this is I was so afraid of being a beta nice guy, I became an omega jerk.
You’ve seen the signs coming on and off the freeways, right?
