Hobbies, Mental health and Emotional Wellbeing:

This is my third attempt at writing on hobbies. I keep getting sidetracked onto other things. And I have no idea why! Must be some alien interference… some particularly odd and diabolical scheme from our reptilian overlords… peeking into my brain and altering the chemistry so that the neural pathways get overloaded with scatter-brained fits of free-form dissociative writing… you’ve got to understand: free-form associative writing is a thing of the past. It’s all about free-form dissociative writing in the here-and-now – something more fitting to the tides and currents of the times we are living in – times that, to be sure, are a-changin’.

And you’d better believe it.

Whatever else one may say, we are at the very least living in interesting times. And whatever grand societal change that will be the result of these odious and turbulent times, be that change good or bad, it will alter the course of history and society immensely when once the fog-of-culture-war lifts and reveals a brave new dawn peeking out at us from somewhere within a bubble of reality that no-one saw coming. Or currently inhabit, for that matter.

For in this day and in this age, it seems that close-to every single human being refuses to live within an actual objective reality.

All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream, to borrow a phrase from Edgar Allan Poe. Again. I keep borrowing bits and bobs from his poetry. Uncontrollably so. He keeps popping up in my head to remind me of my first love affair with poetry at a young, tender and impressionable age.

Anyway; that quote is to say to society at large: get your head out of your socially conditioned arse and smell the free and fresh air again. For, ya know, there is a world outside ones immediate brain-chemistry and terrible social media addiction.

But I got sidetracked again. Gods be damned; it seems that the stranger that drives the grand machine that is my mind have refused to lubricate the cogwheels properly – the little bastard that sits inside my head and steers my thoughts hither or dither is somewhat reluctant to tackle the subject of hobbies, for some strange reason. But I shall try and I shall aspire to write this beastly thing and I shall persevere and I shall conquer the subconscious desire to write spontaneously on something other than the topic which have been growing in my mind the past three weeks. So here we go; the introduction only took me about 400 words this time around. I consider this a step in the right direction.

I once had the slightly weird pleasure of speaking with a woman who had no hobbies or interests. It is the strangest thing I have ever experienced. The conversation was not bad, and I do not for one second think that she was a bad person. It was just so incredibly strange to speak with someone who – by her own admittance – had no particular interests and no particular hobbies. She was unemployed. And spent her days watching television. And that was that. I asked what she was watching, and she replied something along the lines of “whatever is on”. It was, as one would expect, a very superficial conversation.

Is this even possible, I remember thinking, is this even a human being? Of course, and admittedly, I may be projecting here since I have interests and hobbies up the grand wazoo. So that, to me, not having any particular interest or hobby is such an alien concept that I can not imagine a life like that… so devoid of any subject, art or craft to delve into and lose oneself in. I kept thinking that this must be a ridiculously hollow existence; to get out of bed, watch television, then go back to bed. Having nothing in the days but the stuttered mock-reality of television to fill the long hours until sleep. Such a strange existence.

Come to think of it, I might have met a genuine dyed-in-the-wool NPC. That is – a person with no internal monologue, no internal dialogue, no internal narrator, no internal anything. The only thing existing in her reality-bubble would be an external world absorbed and interacted with through the dreary medium of daytime television, from which all horrors and terrors once sprung forth… our modern era Pandora’s box.

The idiot box; a hollow altar of passive entertainment that bestows upon us its flickering light and induces a sort of hypnotic and highly suggestive state, demanding that we throw ourselves down and bask in the light of its countenance. For ever and ever…

Praise be to the blue light of canned laughter and mediocre tropes; ave, ave, soap-opera and reality-television that blur the lines of reality and frames the narrative under whose roof we seek shelter; for I have seen its light and heard its message in my bones and brain! And I was born again, clothed and loved by its flickering full frame image! HALLELUJAH!

…I have not watched television for seventeen years…

Surely; hobbies and interests are one of the few things that separate us from the great and painful void of death. That is – a spiritual death, if you will allow me some pseudo-mystical language. What I mean with spirit and spiritual in this sense is nothing more than the self. Ones personality and whole being. In my way of thinking, which admittedly may very well be a masculine way of thinking, ones personality is made up in no small way of what interests and hobbies one has. What I mean by that is hard to explain, I find. But I shall try to the best of my abilities.

I believe it will be safe to assume that a persons interests and hobbies can tell you a lot about a person. This can be seen on, for example, dating sites. People tend to list their interests and hobbies, in the hope that they will find someone whose interests and hobbies are compatible with their own. If interests and hobbies did not tell you a lot about a person, it would be absolutely pointless to list them.

Following on from this thought: if interests and hobbies are of such immense importance in understanding an individual and how this individual operates within, and interacts with, the world, would it not then be safe to say that a person with nothing of the sort is lacking something – that is – is not a whole and fulfilled person? This is not to say that I think hobbies and interests are the only thing that makes a person. Far from it.

Still: it is very clear to me that it plays a major part in determining what kind of person one has to deal with. To such an extent that listing interests and hobbies seem to be of more – or at the very least the same – importance as other character traits, for example kindness, generosity, patience, etc. etc. And no small wonder. For it would be an absurdity to shack up with someone with whom one has not a single interest in common.

Not every interest need to be shared, of course, for a relationship to function. I would think it is incredibly important to have something that is ones own and ones own only – that is, something to do and enjoy in solitude. This does not change the fact that there does appear to be quite a lot of importance placed on mutual interests and hobbies in order to determine compatibility in a relationship, be that relationship platonic or romantic/sexual. Which, to my eyes and mind – governed as they are by our reptilian overlords – tell us of the importance of interests and hobbies for individual well-being in no small way.

And it is this individual well-being that is so important, I think. And the solitude. Coming from a man who very much enjoys his solitude and time spent with hobbies and interest in those moments of solitude, I can tell you that I always feel refreshed and fulfilled after being able to indulge in it.

My primary interest and one of the greatest pleasures in my life is listening to music. When I have my moments of solitude, they are usually spent lying down and listening to music. For however long I may be alone. After such a session, I feel very much relaxed and invigorated. Not a small feat, considering my stress-related illness, chronic pain and fatigue making the simple task of relaxing a very difficult task indeed! It is during those moments that I am able to completely tune out, turn the constant chattering of my hyperactive brain off – for the most part – and lose myself completely in the present moment. A task that is not impossible for me otherwise, and an ability that can be trained and learned and applied to other areas of life that are more dull and mundane than these precious moments spent in solitude with a major interest or hobby, but which seem to come on its own accord when I indulge in these solitary listening sessions – or meditations, if you will – of mine.

It should then come as no surprise that I have invested a lot of time, energy and money into this hobby, spawning – of course – a new hobby and interest in audio equipment, which I also spend a lot of time, money and energy on. These are things that are incredibly important to me as a person, and as such for my mental health and emotional well-being. If removed, for some reason or other, I would be very much diminished. I would have lost a great part of myself. And be left with a void which I think I would have a hard time filling with anything else. For the enjoyment – almost obsession – of music is something that have played a major part in my life for as long as I can remember. It is one of my prime sources of joy, healing and of relaxation. And something with such an amount of power is not something to be trifled with and taken lightly. Nor is it something to be hastily tossed aside.

Yet; tossing it aside seem to happen with guys as we grow older, as we settle down and raise families. It is a given, obviously so, that there will be less time for certain interests and hobbies. Other things must take prime focus, and raising and maintaining a family is certainly one of those things.

But to lose something of immense importance to oneself completely – to lose such a great part of oneself fully and wholly… strikes me as odd, if not complete and utter evil. And that is evil if giving up a hobby is something that is expected. Which it tends to be, by and large, where men are concerned in this society of ours. For when a man settles down, all that once he was must be lost and his only role – not his primary role, but his only role – is that of protector and provider. And that is all that he is, was and ever shall be again. For as long as he lives.

Anecdotal as it may very well be, I will bet you that every single man (and some women) you encounter of a certain age… say 25 and up… will have observed the same. Either happening to himself, or to someone he knows. The expectation being that his hobbies and interests are of less importance than that of his partner, and that he must put them aside and focus solely on her, her needs and their relationship and family, should they be in the process of raising one. Note that I write “solely” not “primarily”. I don’t think it a bad thing to focus primarily on ones family, should one be raising one. I think it a bad thing should this be the only focus, the only thing in ones life. All else gone out the window, as the windows and the doors close and the walls come closing in.

From personal experience, I have seen friends be forced to sell their hi-fi equipment, their gaming consoles and entire music collection on three separate occasions because their partners was of the opinion that the hi-fi equipment was too ugly to be in their living room – which was in his house which she moved into – in the case of the missing hi-fi equipment. Knowing this man and his love for his system, this can not have been easy.

The reason given for the selling of the gaming consoles was that grown men don’t indulge in such childish past-times as playing video-games according to his partner. This coming from a woman whose main interest was collecting animated Disney features. I kid you not. The awareness of self may be somewhat lacking. She bragged all high-and-mighty on Facebook that she managed – finally – to get the guy to sell his gaming consoles, to much cheer and applause from those that refuse to understand that a man is his own person, even when he is in a relationship with a woman. This does seem to be par for the course where women in relationships are concerned in these end-days of ours, driven by a culture that has said for decades that he shall sacrifice and expect nothing and she shall receive and give nothing. For equality between the sexes and an equal relationship necessarily must mean that she shall have all the say and sway and he shall have none. Makes sense, of course, if one is fully lobotomised by gynocentrism and feminism and the unholy union of the two.

And, in order to hammer the point home lest I shall – yet again – be considered a foul misogynist who wishes for nothing but to chain his wife to the kitchen and keep her as something of a cross between a maid, a trophy and a broodmare (Yes, I have been told this through the insane ramblings of a feminist lost so deep within the feminist orthodoxy that the only sunlight touching her face must come through her own arsehole): I do not think there is anything wrong with women as a whole, as a group or, for that matter, at all. There is something wrong with quite a few individual women, just as there is something wrong with quite a few individual men. Of course; we all know that critique of women equals sexism and critique of men equals fantastic progressivism and true and proper justice. If that critique of men is filtered through the sieve of feminism fantastic and done in the style of the mumbled misandrist mambo, of course.

There may not be anything wrong with women, but there is most definitely something severely wrong with how our societies treat women and socialize a not insignificant amount of them into pampered princesses with a severe entitlement-complex, driven by thirsty blue-balled and blue-pilled men who are completely incapable of saying no to a woman for fear of losing access to pussy.

To channel the voice and reason of Paul Elam for a little while: The onus is on men to say no to unreasonable demands from their partners, and to end the relationship if need be. If the thirst for pussy goes above ones own emotional well-being, I would dare say that the greatest problem in that man’s life is a severe misplacement of priorities.

Going along with such ridiculous demands as the aforementioned is enabling such horrible behaviour, and the responsibility for getting rid of loved and cherished hobbies and/or interests lie squarely on the shoulders of the man who is stupid enough or thirsty enough or blinded enough to go along with it. A simple no should suffice, should such demands arise.

If a simple no is not accepted, a thank you and farewell should do the trick. Expecting that a man should give up the simple little things that give him pleasure in life – pleasure being, more or less, the small and simple things in life – is an expectation that should not be accepted.

There is always room for compromise, should always be room for compromise in a relationship. For that is what a relationship is; a constant dance, a bedazzling back and forth to make room for both within a shared space. There should not be room for ridiculous demands from one partner, to be obeyed without question. And going along with selfish and entitled demands is enabling this behaviour, and more will come. A relationship does consist of more than one person. That is to say: a relationship consist of more than the woman. Which our cultures seem to have forgotten in the great push and leap towards gender equality. And that is gender equality that says that only women matter, no matter where, what, when and how.

Because, for some reason, focusing solely on the needs and wants of one, neglecting the other, is equal treatment in the shanty-town of intellectual diarrhoea that is feminist-infused-and-indoctrinated societal slack-jawed yodelling.

And so – enter the man-cave. The one space in a shared place that is dedicated to the man and his hobbies and his interests. The rest of the house more often than not overflowing with her knick-knack and décor. In essence, this is not an issue if it is a wish from the man. Which it may very well be, considering that men tend to seek solitude far more than women do. And, in seeking solitude, what better way to do so than dedicate one room – one space – in their home for him and him alone, to be filled with his interests and his hobbies where he may allow himself to be engulfed by them for a little while, in solitude, then re-emerge refreshed and relaxed? It becomes an issue when all his stuff is confined to that room for reasons of it not fitting in anywhere else amongst her various decorations and such – when it is forced down there, into the pit under pain of the pendulum of shame and ridicule permanently scarring his throat and face and cock and balls – it is an issue.

From what I understand, it is mainly a wish from the man or a compromise. Which I see no problems with. Nor should anyone else.

Yet – the man-cave – this one space dedicated to his hobbies and interest becomes an issue. For now – now – he is spending too much time down there, amongst the filth and accumulated dust of his interests, hobbies and most priced possessions. And too little time up there in the sunlight with his partner. Again bringing in the wish for him to quit his hobbies and his interests and spend all his time on his partner, even when those hobbies and interests are now confined to a small space within their home. This is not good enough. It needs to be confined to a small space within his mind, pushed further and further back. He needs – preferably – to forget all of it and focus entirely on being a provider, being a protector, being not his own person but a person for the doings that need be done for the relationship or the family or both. The human being is now nothing but a human doing; governed entirely by the needs and wants of others and made to forget his own needs and wants. To do for others and sacrifice all those small pleasures which once he held so dear, which is the plight of men, the underappreciated and taken-for-granted sacrifice that men do.

Which they don’t need to do, if co-operation would be key. There is no reason why a mutually beneficial agreement could not be reached. An agreement that sees the needs of both partners – or the needs of all within a family – fulfilled. Time is a resource that should be spent wisely. The days tend to fly by, and they get shorter – perceivably so – the older one gets. Suddenly, it is difficult to find time for hobbies and interests that was once so dear. Which makes it ever more important to take time for them, to take the time and the space needed and deserved.

Without time set aside, taken and grabbed for these joyous past-time activities, a man becomes a shell and a husk. This goes for women as well, of course. But I focus on men, because so precious few do.

I have one day a week set aside completely for listening to music. More often than not, alcohol is also involved. Because I have a love for alcohol – not in the sense that I get drunk all that often, but in the sense that I have a severe passion for the stuff. See; for all my jokes of heavy drinking, I am afraid to say that my drinking ain’t all that heavy. I am getting too old for that shit. No more sex and drugs and rock’n’roll past age thirty. Now it is all sofa, painkillers and a glass of wine – if the painkillers have not been involved. Sigh. Woe is me.

My interest in alcohol is enough that I actually do have a small collection of somewhat pricey and exciting wines of varying rarity that is saved for a special occasion. And a collection of fairly expensive whiskeys, some of them fairly rare, that I will have a glass of once in a while, to really get that special something going on one of my evenings of music and well-regulated hedonism, decadence and debauchery. And this is not including my severe hobby, interest and passion in home-brewing. Which I would write more about, were I not so ensnared by all this gender-stuff and culture-war nonsense.

This one day a week is something my wife and I agreed on. We each have one day set aside exclusively for our own interests and hobbies, where nothing matters but what I want on my day and what she wants on her day. Of course, this is simplified a bit – there is always room for interests and hobbies, but those days are exclusive to me and to her.

And it works.

Now, I don’t have a man-cave at the moment, as that is simply not possible in this tiny and cramped apartment. We are, however, saving up to buy a small farm and get the hell out of the city. And when we do, I am getting a man-cave on my own insistence. Because I want a fortress of solitude, where I can indulge in my hobbies and my interests and be alone when I need to be alone. Which is more often than most people, I am aware, as my introversion and need for solitude is pretty god-damned severe, anti-social bastard that I am.

My wife understands this perfectly.

And I understand that she does not want me disappearing into the man-cave forever, emerging only to eat, fuck and sleep.

So we compromise. And we do that dance that couples do. And then we figure out how to fit both of us into all that is ours, with enough room for our selves, our own and both of our interests and hobbies.

This is not a difficult thing to do. It only takes a willingness to listen. On both sides. As our societies stand, however, it is expected that only the man shall listen and only the man shall sacrifice. And that is an impossible thing to do, without killing the soul of a man.

  • Please like, share and subscribe
  • Moiret Allegiere, 24.08.2019

Links:

My book – Howling at a Slutwalk Moon:Vol 1 Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/107571074X
Vol 1 Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07TZTPDPR
Vol 2 Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1075714184
Vol 2 Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07TZR25NL
Vol 1 Illustrated Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1075717094
Vol 2 Illustrated Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1075723078

Other links:
Redbubble shop: https://www.redbubble.com/people/Moiret/shop
Blog: https://moiretallegiere.wordpress.com/
YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC3IaCxAXE3pQd7PCdvHoaaA
Bitchute: https://www.bitchute.com/channel/EvbGZyTZSraY/
twatter: https://twitter.com/MAllegiere
Gab: https://gab.com/Moiret_Allegiere
Minds: https://www.minds.com/Moiret
Flickr: https://www.flickr.com/people/152465815@N04/

Advertisements

Yet Another Shooting, and Yet we Miss the Mark:

Male poetry reading 2019 lowres

Illustration: «Group of men reading poetry, 2019», Moiret allegiere

My original intent during my writing session this morning and afternoon was doing a short – or long and rambling, as these things tend to become – piece on hobbies. That is – the importance of hobbies and how they correspond to male health and emotional well-being.

Waking up far too early after yet another night of restless sleep due to severe pain coursing through my entire body combined with this foggy head-space that always follow whenever my symptoms flare up like mad hissing snakes, however, I find the prospect of doing a piece on that terribly difficult. Not so much because of my scatter-brained state of being at the moment, but because there are more pressing matters to attend to. Which just so happen to be both more difficult to write about as well as more pressing. Which is funny, in a slightly sardonic way, I suppose. As the assumption must be that the hobby-thing which I thought of writing about is far easier to tackle with this failing and ailing body and psyche of mine than is the topic I chose. Who can fathom the mind of a bearded bard? No-one. Not even the bearded bard himself.

In order to explain; this topic is more pressing – more pressing at my subconscious – a sensation of strange pressure at the base of my skull – nerves pinched and writhing in agony and soulful despair – something that needs some form of immediate release. Because things I mull over and think about tend to manifest themselves in weird and peculiar ways in my muscles, tendons, bones and joints. Some strange materialisation of the psyche. Psychosomatic illness; pain and death and despair, mind and body working in perfect asymmetrical harmony. Or disharmony.

Did I not know any better, I would say that this culture of ours is making me ill. It is far more complex than that, of course. But it sure as hell ain’t helping.

It was not a good morning to wake up too, nor was it a good world to wake up too.

Usually, I don’t write on relatively recent events. There is a sense of urgency in doing so which does not pair well with my own tendency for long, slow and deliberate thought on a topic – any topic. This is not to say that I consider myself to be stupid.

In all honesty, I do not and I am not.

In order to be even more self-deprecating: I am probably smarter than you believe that I am, yet not as smart as I myself believe that I am. Make of that what you will. I find poking fun at myself makes life more bearable. Something which would translate well to society at large, seeing how everyone and their mums take themselves way to fucking serious, which brings the point to a boil: we have no more room for humour as release or as a point of healing. Because everything is offensive to someone, and no-one can laugh at themselves any more, or at anything else for that matter. Because someone will take offence. Leaving one avenue for self-expression and healing completely closed for everyone.

I tend to prefer looking at – or attempting to look at – the big picture, the grander topics, the greater ideas and so forth and so on, not singular events, happenings or articles. With a few exceptions, for sure.

In order to combat my own insecurities, whichever they may be, I want to be sure that I can defend both morally and factually whatever statements I make. Hence, the long, slow and deliberate thinking I do. Chalk that up to neurosis, if you so wish. I will admit my various insecurities to be plentiful, albeit in a steady decline since I finally began working through them and move onwards with this steady shuffle of mine towards healing.

Which includes self-deprecating humour which somehow people tend to take more seriously than they should. I find that the more serious a topic, the more release is found the moment someone cracks a joke. And an illness causing constant, widespread and chronic pain as well as fatigue is really god-damned serious. Which makes it perfectly reasonable to find release through humour instead of being bogged down with frustration, resentment and anger.

Granted – when this is posted, the topic at hand will no longer be considered recent events in the split-second memories our mass media and social media have brought down upon us. It might as well have been last years news. Or last decade.

…Whatever.

But, Moiret, why this long tangent on humour and release and healing and other metaphysical conundrums of the human soul and condition?

Well, now, my friends, come closer to the fire and I will tell you why: Men, by and large, are the ones telling “offensive” jokes at subjects that are supposedly not to be joked about. And women, by and large, are the ones being offended by these jokes. This goes yet again to show that men and the way men attempt to heal and lighten or brighten the day or the mood are not understood. Instead of attempting to understand humour and the reason for morbid humour, it is painted as men not having empathy and not showing proper behaviour in light of a tragedy. Shame, again, is the point. This removes yet another avenue for men to heal, as we can no longer crack jokes for fear of shame and ridicule from the whamens. Causing build-up of internal pressure that finds no release, for all our ways of release are deemed verboten and in bad taste. Despite being quite the opposite, were only these troglodytes able to understand humour, the reason for humour and the one simple fact that I was told once by someone who worked in a late-stage terminal disease ward; that being that there were nowhere and no-one he had ever been or ever met who had such a grim and morbid sense of humour as those who were months or weeks away from death. It eases and it releases. Humour is far more, and goes far deeper, than merely laughter for the sake of laughter.

This lack of humour, or that is to say: the offence taken at all manner of humour and – by extension – the masculine path to healing brings me to that which is pressing on my subconscious mind; the recent mass-shootings in the USA. If that is not made obvious by now. That is to say – not so much the recent shootings. They are severe tragedies, as are all things of this nature. I, for one, don’t give a flying fuck about what politics brought this into being on part of the shooters.

I don’t care whichever ideology or unnecessary, old-fashioned and outdated side on the left/right political axis they claimed allegiance to. I think it would be safe to say that people who commit such terrible crimes are damaged beyond repair no matter which self-splitting and soul-leeching ideology they subscribe to. It is not necessarily the recent shootings that bother me, as it is that these types of shootings happen at all. Seems to be so commonplace now. Though, this might just be because news travel faster now, and are more sensationalised than ever they were before.

The sensationalism following in the wake of these absolute tragedies always drag with it in its current the usual political pundits and leeches trying to score quick and easy partisan political points on the corpses of those that died before they are even cold. They bathe in the blood of the victims and they feast on their flesh like the vicious cannibals that they are.

And here I am.

Writing on it myself.

I don’t know whether this makes me a hypocrite of the highest order or not. Probably, it does. What I will say in my defence in regards to this is simple: I have no interest in pointing fingers at any political party or any politician. Our western societies are divided enough as it is. And the rank stupidity exhibited on both sides of the great political divide is enough to make me vomit bloody chunks of cancerous sickness.

What sickens me most is of course the usual mass media purveyors of fake news and dubious reporting. This may be bias on my part. I suspect, however, that it has more to do with their reach as compared to those that are not of the mass media persuasion than any bias on my part. Though, I have no problem with admitting that the bias is there.

The so-called reporting I have seen on these tragedies have not been journalism as much as it has been opinion-pieces pointing fingers here, there and everywhere.

…Well, not here, there and everywhere in regards to the mass media pundits. They spew their usual trite and predictable trash, blaming toxic masculinity, blaming men, blaming white men in particular, blaming Donald Trump, blaming the fluent and gaseous, ever-changing, never-static and poorly defined “far right” – their enemy of choice; the Emmanuel Goldstein of their world and their warped and wretched minds that seems to have barely survived a failed coat-hanger abortion.

There is little use, to my eyes, in pointing fingers at this one thing over here as opposed to this other thing over here to try and explain these horrible happenings in the simplest way possible.

Because the partisan political ploy and play on display is far too simple and far too easy, far too emblematic of the great chasm that suddenly appeared in the midst of our societies – that is, the entirety of western civilization. Though this split – this far too obvious and far too ideological split – seem to be greater and more dangerous in North America, it is something that has spread, and continues to spread, all over the west.

These are dangerous times we live in. Not only in regards to violence, but in regards to unthinking stupidity, in regards to immediate knee-jerk reactions from everywhere and everyone. It is one thing for some random person on the vast cesspit of social media to spew some uninformed garbage in regards to things of this nature. It is quite another for so-called journalists who are supposed to hold some manner of journalistic integrity to do the same. This goes for politicians as well. Using tragedies such as these – standing on the corpses of the victims in a blatant attempt to harvest votes and boost ones own popularity – ought to be career suicide. Yet, they keep doing it. And people keep celebrating it. Never once seeing beyond their own ideological idealization of the whatever or the whichever, and never once understanding – or attempting to understand – a broader picture than “men are prone to violence because they are men”. Neglecting the fact that the pain of men is taboo (shameless plug: check out Tom Golden of menaregood.com and his books on male healing for more on this), and that the path men tend to take towards healing is not understood as anything but the wrong path for not being the same path that women tend to take, leaving little cultural acceptance for both the pain of men and the ways men tend to heal.

And I sit here now. Attempting to write on it. Tom Russell filling the room with melancholy tunes from the fantastic “Blood and Candle Smoke” album. Trying to sort out my own thoughts on the matter, as this impacted me far more than I believed that it would when the first reports started trickling in.

It is Wednesday, the seventh of August at the time of writing. This will – most likely – be published a week from now, when all the gun smoke has cleared up and the corpses gone cold. The memory will still linger in some corners of the web, and the sense we attempt to make of tragedies of this nature will be no closer to any semblance of sense. Because it is, in one word, senseless.

My sneaking suspicion – prediction, if you will – is that it will be mostly forgotten, replaced by some new outrage or sensationalised tragedy. The happenings, that is. The rhetoric from all who chose to use it as some quick political weapon will not be forgotten, nor will it be subdued.

Please note that I do not consider possibly fruit-bearing discussions on the possible causes and solutions of and to things of this nature to be quick political potshots.

There is a difference, I think, in pointing fingers of blame hastily at whatever or whomever is in stark opposition to ones own political beliefs and in attempting to find a root cause.

That is to say: there is a difference in stating as absolute fact that this is caused by some defect in men as a group, and in saying that there is something wrong with how our societies treat men that cause them to lash out in a manner such as this – what might that be?

For example.

For there is absolutely no reason in denying or refusing to admit that it is mainly men – and mainly young men at that – who commit such vile acts. That would not be factual. Nor would it be helpful to any cause I wish to champion. Or at the very least spread awareness about.

There is, however, reason to deny the statements made that there is something wrong with men as a whole that cause this. For the very simple reason that men are not defective – being a man is not some biological or cultural defect. There is nothing wrong with masculinity as masculinity is. And there is nothing wrong with men as men are.

There is also reason to deny that it is mainly white men doing this. Because that is not factual either.

But my main gripe, my focus is not on ethnicity, not on matters of race or skin colour or creed or race relations or what-have-you. That is reserved for those who claim to abhor racism, yet do little but encourage hatred and division along lines of skin-pigmentation. And so I am careful when mentioning these factors, as I know very little about them. In particular in regards to North America.

I don’t think there are any easy explanations or simple solutions to these problems. Tragedies such as these will happen and they will keep happening. This is just a sad fact of life – people snap. People reach their breaking point, and they snap. This is something we will never get rid off. I believe, however, that we – as a society – would be able to reduce the amount of such tragedies in a not insignificant way. With solutions that are not simple. Yet would, I hope, be helpful and bear fruit were they to be implemented.

And I have, actually, a few propositions. I admit – willingly – that this is speculation on my part. It seems very obvious to me, though.

I would also like to state that these are based on thoughts, beliefs and values that permeate the structure of my philosophy and my life, and as such are not something that popped up in my mind as immediate responses to these tragedies. This is important for me to mention, as I spent the previous 1600 or so words attacking knee-jerk reactions and quick-and-easy political potshots to these tragedies. I am fully convinced that these propositions of mine would make for better societies overall, not only in regards to extremes such as these.

These are of course not my thoughts and opinions alone; I have a lot to thank the voices, thoughts and work of the likes of Tom Golden, Paul Elam, Janice Fiamengo, the Honey Badger Brigade, Warren Farrel, Erin Pizzey, as well as a multitude of other voices that dare defy the cultural norm and narrative of this day and age. Credit needs to be given where credit is due, and I have a lot to credit these incredible people and their incredible work for.

What sticks out the most to me is that our societies have to acknowledge and understand that the empathy-gap exist. That is: that men are met with far less empathy and understanding than women are, which I think goes a long way in explaining why young men blow up in such a spectacular manner.

These young men are – more often than not – men who have met nothing but hostility and a lack of understanding in this ripped-apart world of ours. From home-life to school to work. They are, as is my understanding, deeply damaged, neglected and ignored men. And damaged people damage people. Or they damage themselves. Or they do both – going out in a blaze of fucking glory and bloodshed, taking as many people with them as they fall as they can.

I would think it bloody obvious that people who snap like this are not well. Mentally healthy people don’t do things like this.

After a tragedy such as this, there is – rightfully – little compassion shown the perpetrators. In my way of thinking, however, showing compassion, empathy and understanding for their troubles before they reached the breaking point would go a long way in defusing the bomb, as it were.

It would behove us, then, as a civilization to not celebrate a cultural zeitgeist that do nothing but paint men and masculinity as inherently defective, that do nothing but place the burden of blame for everything wrong in our ramshackle societies on the shoulders of young men, that do nothing but tell them when they attempt to heal that their way of healing and coping and dealing is wrong. It does not do anyone well having to live with the sword of Damocles hanging over them; to live with the claim that the original sin of masculinity dangles there on a piece of flimsy string, ready to force them to break and snap and kill, maim and mutilate and rape.

When men – be that individual men, or the broader men’s rights movement – speak on issues affecting them as individuals, or men as a group, our societies would do well to listen instead of demonize and smear, instead of shutting down conferences and writing article after article filled with lies about the wickedness of this loosely knit movement.

It is often stated that men need to be more in tune with their emotions – that men need to speak about their emotions more. This presupposes firstly that there are people willing to listen, which is seldom the case. Secondly, it presupposes that men and women deal with their emotions in the same way. Which we do not. It also presumes that men do not understand their own emotions. Which we bloody well do.

There are differences in how men and women deal with difficult emotions, and men are drawn more towards action or solitude than are women.

This can not be stated enough.

Assuming, given this, that men would be cured if only they spoke about their emotions as women do are built around the presupposition that the feminine way is the correct way, and that the masculine way is the wrong way. Once again stating – in so many words – that boys and men are, really, only defective girls and women. Men have an incredible ability to be together in silence – doing something together, yet enjoying silence and merely being in the presence of a good and trusted friend. Men face their enemies and stand shoulder to shoulder with their friends, as the saying goes. The way our civilization has managed to dismantle and destroy any male-only spaces (yet keeping female-only spaces) has removed this one very simple act of healing through action or through silence.

Just the knowledge that this friend with whom one is doing whatever – even if it is just building something together, fixing something, fishing, whatever – is one to be trusted, one who has ones back, goes a long way in making a man feel safe and secure in the knowledge that he is understood.

And when demanding that women be let into what was formerly male-only spaces, thusly removing – under the preposterous pretence of gender discrimination – male only spaces, this male bonding and subsequent healing disappear. Giving rise to ever more broken men who truly have no path to tread in a society in which they are told that all that they do are wrong.

We inhabit societies which have created an entire generation of disillusioned and disenfranchised young men for whom traditional societal expectations have not changed in the least.

This despite the claim that gender-norms have been torn down for all. This claim is simply not true.

It can be as simple as men still being expected to not only make the first move in regards to a date, but also be expected to pay for a date. Or it can be as difficult as men still being expected to sacrifice themselves and their lives to save other people. This is something mainly men do. Just as it is mainly men perpetrating mass shootings. Yet these sacrifices made by men are never mentioned, never celebrated as the grand virtue of masculinity that it is. And make no mistake – I believe that this is a biological trait in men. Re-enforced by culture, for sure, yet encoded in our biological make-up and as such nothing that will ever be done completely away with.

Whenever men do anything bad, it is put up everywhere as men doing something bad. The dominating words then being men and bad, creating a clear link between these two words. This happens despite the good actions of men far outweighing the bad actions of men.

I would think it about time that our cultures began celebrating not only women but also men. There is absolutely no justifiable reason behind labelling it equal treatment when one sex is placed on a pedestal, built up and aided at the detriment, bullying and shaming of the other sex. Equal treatment would mean actually that – equal treatment. Either both sexes get built up, or neither do. Either both sexes still have traditional expectations enforced by culture, or neither do.

To be clear: I see absolutely nothing wrong in celebrating the contributions or importance of women for society as a whole. What is wrong is the lack of celebration of the contributions and importance of men for society as a whole. It is this constant buzz, this constant wretched you go girl nonsense no matter how small and insignificant a contribution any woman may have made.

I remember an article celebrating a female electrician for the simple fact that she was a female and an electrician. Women, then, are to be celebrated merely for doing their job. And yet, men, who are the ones by and large doing all the dangerous work, all the backbreaking labour, who sacrifice and sacrifice all the time, are not celebrated. They are demonized by the very same forces that celebrate a woman for nothing but doing a job that men do all the time.

Young men and boys live in a confusing culture. For it claims one thing – the eradication of gender-norms and traditions – whilst showing, quite clearly, that the traditional expectations are still there where they are concerned. And then the men are blamed and shamed for these traditional expectations as though they are at fault for them being there. Even when it is women – by and large – that expect men to pay for dates, to make the first move, to initiate the whole she-bang.

Claiming that both sexes are treated equal, whilst doing nothing in regards to treating the sexes equally does not make for anything but confusion. This double-standard is clear as the dawn where violence and rape and sexual assault and so forth and so on are concerned as well.

Women and men are the same and can do the same thing is the message delivered all the god-damned time.

This message makes an exception where violence, sexual assault and rape are concerned, however. For that is still the domain of men and men only. To such an extent that men who have suffered violence, rape, sexual assault and so forth at the hands of a woman are not believed, are met with ridicule and laughter and hollow mockery, and are victim-blamed into silence. Only for these same forces to then complain that men don’t talk about their emotions. And then, when this is brought up, the blame is yet again laid at the feet of men. For is it not the ideology of masculinity that has made it impossible for men to speak openly about things of this nature? That is the claim. Despite the fact that feminism does nothing but ruin the spaces where men speak about things like this, and then bitch and moan and shut down the voices of men who dare speak on things of this nature. Catch-22 and the circular logic of feminism as well as the societies surrounding us.

…For this is obviously driven by the culture we inhabit. And the culture we inhabit have listened nothing to men’s advocates where this is concerned. Quite the opposite. Yet, the blame falls on men whenever these topics are brought up, which is odd considering that it is feminist lobbying that brought these double-standards into dubious and neglectful policy in the first place. We just conveniently chose to forget that fact, I suppose.

The point being – men need to be listened to when we speak, the problems of boys and men are not that they are boys and men. It is that we live within a society which do nothing but smear and scorn and shun and ridicule and blame men and masculinity for being nothing but men, for being nothing but masculine. As though the mere trait of masculinity, the mere existence of a man as a man is enough to bring doomsday upon his fractured head and torn shoulders, breaking from the weight of the world.

There is also the issue with fatherless homes to consider. Boys who grow up without fathers do not do well in life. Girls who grow up without fathers tend to do better, but still do worse than girls who grow up with fathers in the home. Fathers are important. I am not interested here and now in placing any blame at the mother or the father for the absence of the father. It is not as easy as placing blame here or there. Because the blame is seldom here nor there on a societal level. On an individual level, it most assuredly can be. That would be another ramble, another long-winded and depressive affair that surely need to be explored. But this is long enough, and going of on yet another tangent would not do anyone any service. My view-count is low enough as it is – ha ha.

Suffice it to say: fathers need to be in the lives of their children. Children need their fathers to be in their lives. Particularly young boys. For stable, good, loving masculine role-models are of immense importance to them.

And to girls.

This is not something new. This is not some wicked scheme of the patriarchy to downplay the role and importance of the mother. Or, for that matter, force women to be mothers. Whatever the hell that means. This is the pure and unfiltered truth. And our societies… their celebrations of single motherhood have got to stop. There needs to be a celebration of both parents, a re-implementation of the family unit, of understanding the importance of a whole and functional family. Not necessarily in any traditional sense, as I have come to understand it.

Just the simple fact that both parents need to be present for the good of the child, be that child a boy or a girl. Even if these statements will bring hate and fury, rage and ruin upon my insomniac head and crippled ass from scores of single mothers feeling slighted and attacked for me daring to state that fathers are just as necessary and important in the life of a child as are mothers. There is genuinely something deeply wrong with a culture that celebrates the absence of one parent, that only celebrate the achievements and acknowledges the importance of one parent. That neglects the importance of the masculine and over-amplifies to the point of tonal distortion the importance of the feminine. This has gone to such an extent that we now have people lobbying to change father’s day to “Special Persons Day”, because – they claim as the reason – some children don’t have fathers. Some children don’t have mothers either, but no-one is lobbying to remove mother’s day, for some strange reason. For, you know, single fathers do also exist. Even if it is rare. And this is rare because of the biased nature of family courts, which holds as the golden standard of parenting the mother, no matter who is the best parent in any individual relationship. Of course, despite feminist lobbying to not have 50/50 as the default custody, this is also blamed on the patriarchy and therefore by extension men. If this does not tell us something about how our cultures view fatherhood, nothing will. It does not matter how small or big the movement lobbying for the removal of father’s day is. It is bad enough that it not only exist, but are given media attention.

Despite what one would probably be led to believe, considering the overarching theme of my writings – I do not place the blame on this solely on feminism. Though I do consider feminism to play a major part in it, and though I consider feminism to be a global fraud and sham, a blight on this earth and a foul and horrible den of hypocrites, double-standard aficionados and control-freaks that will eventually cause the collapse of our civilizations by crafting and crafting again, this narrative, by spinning and spinning again, yarns that do nothing but exaggerate and amplify a manufactured and nonsensical gender-war that does nothing but create rifts and lack of co-operation and understanding where there should be co-operation and understanding between the sexes – there is far more at play in this than that of their forces and their forces alone.

We also have gynocentrism to contend with, we have the biological impulse in men to protect women, we have the – from what I understand – biological bias exhibited in women’s greater in-group preference as opposed to men’s greater out-group preference where the sexes are concerned. Meaning that both men and women will rather look out for the interests and well-beings of women as a group than men as a group. Then there are trad-cons and white knights and the blue pill and the whole buckaroo banzai, the whole fucking thing. There are more forces at play than feminism, and feminism exploits all these other forces, being little more than trad-cons in alluring disguise. It is, as are all things, more complex than it is not. And as much as I would like it to be as simple as pointing a finger of blame at feminism and nothing but that, it really ain’t. I have a bone or two to pick with feminism, for sure. And I tend to focus on it. This does not mean that I am not aware of the other forces at play, making the coinci-dance of society such a difficult fox-trot that I always end up stepping on my own nose when trying to learn the moves.

I must also make it perfectly clear that I do not absolve the young men who go on these shooting sprees of any guilt. The responsibility of their heinous actions fall flat on their shoulders, and so they must also suffer the consequences of these actions. It is a far greater problem than men = bad, is what I am getting at. Obvious to anyone but those who have decided that men = bad, I suppose.

In order to combat mass shootings – in order to do something to reduce the risks for these tragedies to happen – we need to show more understanding and compassion and empathy towards men and boys and what they go through. We need to understand – on a grand scale – that men and boys are not so privileged as we have been led to believe. We have got to stop bombarding boys and men with messages of their inherent wickedness. And we need to stop telling girls and women that they can do no wrong, whatever they do. For – as it stands – any action done by a woman is empowering in some way or other, even if that entails nothing but doing her fucking job. Either, we start celebrating and building up boys and men in the same way we do girls and women, or we celebrate and build up neither. As the world is now, boys and men get all the hatred, all the shaming, all the dark and despicable forces we would rather see hidden in the shadows. And girls and women get all the celebration, all the love and care and empathy and compassion we can find, no matter if this is deserved or not. This goes for gendered scholarships as well. Women outnumber men in higher education, and there is still this immense push to get women into higher education. Even when boys and men are dropping out completely.

We have got to understand that bombarding men constantly with messages of how horrible they are, how bad and vicious and evil they are, has a terrible effect on young men and boys.

Particularly when we see, time and again, women being praised and praised and then praised some more. Our societies – our cultures – show nothing but contempt for boys and for men, made possible by some strange and predetermined biological traits perhaps, yet amplified immensely by a culture that has decided that its one scapegoat, its one wrench in the mechanism, is men.

For our cultures are in the act of auto-cannibalism; are in the midst of self-destruction. They are melting down due, in no small way, to the insistence, the message, the constant reminder that boys and men are no longer necessary – that masculinity is archaic and toxic – that women and femininity are the only saving grace we have. Despite us needing both in co-operation to survive and to thrive, we have decided that we only need the one and that the other should be destroyed. And destroy it they will. Bit by bit and piece by piece, tearing it down from within individual men who are shown and are told over and over that – no matter what they do – they do only wrong. That they can do nothing right.

And all that they experience is a loss of love. A loss of love from the culture surrounding them, and a loss of love for themselves. And they have no purpose. And they have no place. And they have no help. And they gain neither empathy nor understanding for their plight, being told that they are privileged patriarchal oppressors. And there is no guiding hand, no guiding light, no masculine role-model whom they may emulate and aspire to become. And there is nothing but the constant droning, the constant gnawing, the constant tearing-down of the self and all that is, was and ever will be the self. And they reach the end of the rope and they snap.

And the rope becomes a hangman’s noose; tied about their necks. And seeing nothing but death and seeing nothing but destruction and seeing nothing but despair and neglect and hollow tunes and mockery of their misery, they stand upon the gallows and upon the trapdoor underneath their feet, destined to die and destined to take as many with them while they fall as they can.

And then – when the fall is over and done with, when the damage is dealt and the damage is done, when the neck is snapped and the body is dead – the internal injuries now externalized – the whole vicious circle begins anew. For now, his actions and his rampage and his massacre are shown as absolute evidence of the rhetoric that brought him to the breaking point in the first place. Building ever more of the same. Repeating and continuing the rhetoric; a perfect circle that perfectly feeds into itself and into our cultural narrative and the societal zeitgeist, solving nothing yet claiming to solve everything. Rinse and repeat. Ad infinitum.

   – Please like, share and subdcribe

   – Moiret Allegiere, 14.08.2019

__________________________________________________________________________________________

My book – Howling at a Slutwalk Moon:

Vol 1 Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/107571074X
Vol 1 Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07TZTPDPR
Vol 2 Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1075714184
Vol 2 Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07TZR25NL
Vol 1 Illustrated Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1075717094
Vol 2 Illustrated Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1075723078

Other links:
Redbubble shop: https://www.redbubble.com/people/Moiret/shop
Blog: https://moiretallegiere.wordpress.com/
YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC3IaCxAXE3pQd7PCdvHoaaA
Bitchute: https://www.bitchute.com/channel/EvbGZyTZSraY/
twatter: https://twitter.com/MAllegiere
Gab: https://gab.com/Moiret_Allegiere
Minds: https://www.minds.com/Moiret
Flickr: https://www.flickr.com/people/152465815@N04/

The cultivation of fear. A ramble on forced fragility and manufactured frailty:

Make your own damn culture lowres

Illustration: «Make your own damn culture», A3, 2019, Moiret Allegiere.

 

Preface: I have a redbubble shop where some of my art can be bought, should you wish to show everyone your impeccable tastes and don the regal t-shirt-print of inscrutable style and elegance, as well as throwing some money my way for the continued glory of my ramblings: https://www.redbubble.com/people/Moiret/shop

___________________________________________________________________________________________

In some strange past I struggled with severe anxiety. It seems centuries ago now, looking at it with the beautiful lenses of hindsight. Understanding this type of anxiety is not easy. It should be experienced in order to understand it. Imagine being in a constant state of fight-or-flight, a body and a mind constantly tense; clockwork all wound up ready to spring into action – or retreat from action, sensing danger around every corner and in every shadow.

It should go without saying that this permanent stress, this level of heightened awareness in regards to ones surroundings, this constant over-thinking and over-analysing of situations in order to weed out any threats takes its toll on body and mind.

It is not pretty.

The results of this chronic stress, these sudden surges of adrenaline through the body, uncalled for, unwanted and unnecessary does not lend itself to good health, be that health physical or psychological. In the end, isolation seems to be the best and wisest choice to make. It seems to be the only option available; a survival tactic so as not to suffer the horrors of sudden panic, dread and despair. This just feeds the beast, as constant exposure to whatever triggers the anxiety is the only way to overcome the anxiety. Not isolation, but exposure. Isolation breeds further insanity – if you will allow me some self-deprecating humour.

The reason I am bringing this up is simple. It is the fostering and nurturing of fear, anxiety and dubious trepidation; the culture of fear crafted by feminism when gazing at the dynamics between men and women. The notion, disgusting as it is, that men and masculinity is something that women need to fear – that all men everywhere have nothing else on their mind but to assault and oppress women. It is a culture of fear, a bacterial culture handcrafted by the might and influence of an ideology whose very survival hinges on painting men as perpetrators and women as victims, forever and ever. Nurturing this fear and keeping women constantly on their toes for fear of men is not healthy. Not for women, not for men, not for society at large.

The rhetoric and false and cherry-picked statistics of feminism and their cohorts gave birth to a constant fear and mistrust between men and women. With the prime notion being that women need to fear men, and men in turn have nothing to fear from women. As the old saying goes, old as time itself: women good, men bad.

This is not, under any circumstances, a view of the genders as equal. Viewing the genders equally would be understanding – as stated time and again – that men and women both have the capacity for bad and for good. One is not worse or better than the other. Claiming that one is worse than the other, that one is better than the other, is quite the contrary of viewing and treating the genders equally. This is seen, time and again, in politics as well as the justice system, as women are given leniency in sentencing, whereas men are not. Harsher sentences for men for the same crimes as women. For women are wonderful. And men are not.

Female perpetrators of whatever crime are given excuses for their actions, more often than not. They need to be understood. Often they are painted as the real victim, because she must have been abused at some point in time. Probably by a man. Men who have been abused prior in their life, are not given leniency or understanding of the trauma. Men who do bad are simply monsters. Women who do bad are simply victims. Very peculiar.

In viewing men in this light, and women in the other light, there is no wonder that men are painted as monsters and, in being monsters, also being something that women need to fear. When men do bad – it is because they are, at heart, bad. And when one man is, at heart, bad, there is a possibility that all men are – that this is something that exist in the very nature of men. Men do bad because they are bad. Women do bad because they have been hurt by someone doing bad. And this is not equal treatment. All manner of mental gymnastics and round-about excuses do not detract from this simple fact.

When I struggled with this severe anxiety of mine – and it was severe, there is no doubt about that – it blew the fucking lid of the scales, and prompted my psychiatrist at the time to tell me that the best solution for me was isolation. Now, this is of course some terrible and horrible advice to give to someone when they are supposed to overcome some trembling and futile ailment of the psyche.

It is obvious to me now, when looking at it through a mind not muddied and clouded with medications, that he had completely given up on me – that he saw no future hope for me getting better and overcoming this nonsensical fear and trepidation of mine. It also went completely contrary to what I had read and heard about overcoming anxiety.

It is something that must be overcome through exposure, gradual at first and then – feet first into the murky and cold waters of society at large, to understand that my anxiety was driven by delusions crafted by prior experiences with people who did not – to put it lightly – wish me well or treat me well. Wallowing in these delusions did nothing but paint a picture in my mind of everyone being my enemy in some way, shape or form. When the reality is something else entirely. Most people are completely neutral towards me and my existence. Most people have more than enough with themselves.

That is the simple fact of the matter.

And so, what I did to conquer this anxiety of mine was some deep and thorough soul-searching combined with the aforementioned exposure. I had not then, nor do I have now, any interest in living a life of anxiety, fear and trepidation. And I should not wish this on anyone. Of course, I dropped any and all connection to psychiatry. To me, at any rate, they did far more harm than good.

The root cause of my issues was not examined at all. Merely a superficial fixing of the symptoms through medications and a call for isolation. Out of sight, out of mind. And me, then, through medications and maltreatment, even more out of my mind. But at the very least out of the sight of society at large. No exploration of my anxiety. No treatment either. No therapeutic path to walk, no deep dive into my psyche. Drugged into oblivion and washed away.

I can not help but think that my treatment would be far different and more empathetic had I been a woman and not a man. The emotional pain of men is something society does not wish to see. This goes for professionals as well. The emotional pain of women, however, is something society must band together to fix.

I remember reading an article, this was several years ago now. I could not dig it up if I tried. It was written by a man. The title was something along the lines of “Last night, I became a rapist”.

He did not become a rapist.

In fact, there was no sexual encounter at all.

What had happened was this: he was walking home, and was walking behind a woman who was scared of him, constantly looking over her shoulder and fearing this horrible man walking behind her. He solved this anxiety of hers by crossing the road and taking a detour on his way home so that she should not feel the discomfort of having to walk on the same pavement as a man.

Obviously, from having the same paranoid sensations myself whenever I was out walking by myself, I recognized her anxiety. And I remember thinking that he should not have to inconvenience himself due to her neurosis. He is not responsible for some random stranger and her anxiety. Had he just kept walking behind her, she could perhaps have learned something from the experience. She could have learned that not every single man out there is out to get her. She might have overcome some of the anxiety.

He ended the article, simpering and stupid as it was, by telling all men that if they walked behind a woman on their way home, they should cross the road and take a different route to get home so she should not feel this discomfort. How fucking ridiculous!

No-one ever did this for me when I was in the throes of some stupid delusional anxious fever-dream. That would be doing me a disservice. And it was doing her a disservice. And it is doing every man everywhere a disservice.

Go out of your way, men, to make the burden of walking home easier on women, lessening her neurosis for about two seconds. So she can go home and say that she was followed by some stranger on her way home, giving further credence to the feminist fear-mongering. Heh. I am saying this only partly in jest.

You have to make it harder on yourself, of course, as you have to take a detour. Then despair for being born a man and thusly the object of scorn and fear from women, who of course happen to be your superiors in every way, shape and form. What horrible objectification of men this is, viewing us as nothing but objects of terror and violence and primal sexual urges. Gaze upon the privilege granted us by being born men! The righteous privilege of being feared and shunned and scorned and ridiculed and demanded to sacrifice so that someone whom we have no ill intent towards shall feel safe based on her own neurotic delusions born from paranoid dementia in feminist rhetoric.

It is even more strange when considering the simple fact that men are far more likely to be the victims of violent assault from strangers than women are. This does not matter, of course, as we have been spoon-fed this silly lie that women are victims of violent men far more than men are. That men have nothing to fear, whereas women have all to fear. When a man attacks a woman, it is because he hates women. This is taking into consideration whether or not he has assaulted more men previously. As is very likely.

Men who experience violence is par for the course, commonplace, and something that is expected. Most every man will, at some point in their lives, experience violence. Usually from other men, this is true. I fail to see why this should matter, though. It only matters when one views the genders as being at war with one another. When men and women are on opposing teams, any violence done towards a woman by a man is an act of war, done because she is a woman and not for any other reason. In painting masculinity as toxic, any violence done upon a man by another man is further proof of the degeneracy of the opposing side. The language of feminism is the language of war-rhetoric. This side is degenerate scum, that side is pure and clean and just.

Women need not change the way they think. They need not become braver. They are free to wallow in their misery, their anxiety and their dread and mistrust of all men. Men must change the way they behave, even when it is a tiny minority of men doing bad, all men must rethink their lives and take collective responsibility for the actions of a few bad men. I fail to see how this is any different than claiming that the Jews have poisoned the well.

Women, whether as a group or as individuals, need not change a thing about themselves. The messengers of feminism have ridden into the town-square and read aloud a statement from the queen, proclaiming all women everywhere to be perfect just the way they are. No faults, no flaws, no nothing. And everything they feel is true, no matter if it is true or not. No matter if it is factual or not. There is no objective fact. All is based on subjective feeling. If you happen to be a woman. The experiences of men need not apply. Nor do the facts of the matter.

Fostering powerless women is the bread and butter of feminism, and so is forcing men to submit to the delusions of neurotic women instead of having these women face up to, understand and overcome this neuroticism of theirs. This neuroticism, this tactical usage of frailty and weakness and anxious trepidation is nothing but emotional manipulation. When you see women in positions of leadership – politicians – pretending to shake in their boots and in their knickers for some passing joke made by some passing man several months ago, it begs the question as to why anyone so frail and weak should be in that position to begin with.

One should think that anyone in a position of leadership, be they male or female, ought to be strong enough to withstand the storm. Of course not. Not when they happen to be a woman, whose frailty and weakness and fear and anxiety is nothing but a bargaining chip, a methodical manipulation of our emotions to feel pity for her and as a result of this barge in to her defence, preferably with votes or through her gofundme-account.

I should not think it too harsh a trespass on reason to actually want the leaders of a nation to be strong enough to handle a passing joke or comment without breaking down emotionally, without crying crocodile-tears and telling everyone around them how pitiful they are and how much we must pity them for having to deal with the brutish nature of these horrid men. The strength of these women are their facade of weakness. Being powerless, or rather – portraying herself as being powerless, means men barge in to protect and to provide, to save her from the horrors of being a woman in a male-dominated field. Whatever the hell that means. It is this stupidity, this nonsense, once again. This ridiculous fuckwittery of the genders being at war instead of in a state of co-operation. It bothers me, more than it probably should. Or, as my wife is wont to say, it should probably bother me way more than it does.

Alas, no – having strong and powerful leaders – that is not the beat of the funeral drum to which we march. We march beneath the banner of forced female fragility, to the tranquil rhythm of weaponized fear. The fear of men manufactured through decades of social engineering felt by all women everywhere, whose feelings are fact and not some hand-crafted frail fear and anxiety designed to gather our sympathies and our empathies and place them at their feet, to bow down before their emotional distress and say, singingly, soothingly, lovingly: “Sorry mother dear, we will behave”.

Being a man struggling with anxiety is not easy. See, there is no empathy nor understanding there from the concrete-jungles of society. Merely a push into the bubbling cauldron, boiling away at my sanity. The interesting part of it is that, of course, there must be this push, there must be this poke-and-prod to get out there and actually do something about it instead of isolation. Which is frantically fascinating to me. It is as though the behaviours were switched between the mental health professional who treated me and those around me, be they professional acquaintances or friends and family, with my psyche-docs telling me to hide away and the ones who did not understand the thing pushing and prodding, in short telling me to “man up”.

Now, this pushing and prodding did not come from a place of empathy – that much was certain, as there was no understanding of the anxiety nor any attempt to understand why I suffered this anxiety. Nothing but disbelief. And of course, the usual sentiment that I was making it up. For what gain, I never understood.

Grown men should not act like that, and so the only thing left to do was to dive into shallow waters, head first, and break my neck on impact. Then one is just left with confusion, with constantly changing messages, trite trash and a complete lack of understanding and empathy.

Men must talk about their emotions more. Even when men need not talk about their emotions. In particular not when in emotional distress or suffering emotional weakness. There is no-one there to listen. Men in emotional distress breed disgust. Particularly in the minds of those who claim to fight for equality. Telling men to open up about their emotions, and then poo-poo it as being nothing when they do creates confusion and inner turmoil.

What the old “men need to be more emotional” actually mean is for men to listen more to the emotions of women, and speak of their own emotions only in a manner deemed suitable by feminism. Which translates to admitting to their male privilege and toxic masculinity; that all the emotional distress a man may feel is born from him being a man, and nothing more. Seeing how society treat women in emotional distress in comparison to how society treat men in emotional distress is disconcerting, to say the least. Experiencing it first-hand upon ones mind and body is something else entirely, and teaches one nothing but the simple fact that one is all alone. No-one is looking out for you, even when they claim to be looking out for everyone equally.

Nurturing and fostering delusional anxiety and fear in women the way feminism does is damaging. Creating this mirage, casting this holographic picture over all of society that what any woman may feel is real, no matter the facts and the reality of the situation is severely damaging. It is also incredibly dangerous. To all but feminism, who thrive on female victimhood and see no qualms in manufacturing this fear, these delusional anxieties and holding them up, waving in the wind, as some sort of strength in women instead of it being a weakness, as some manner of fact instead of delusion.

Trembling in anxiety from someone telling a joke is not being strong. It is being severely weak. As well as lacking in humour and understanding of humour. Of course, they paint it as strength by the woman withstanding the horrors of man-joking, man-spreading, man-splaining, man-slamming, man-terrupting, man-existing or whatever. Then she gathers empathy and understanding by the bucket-load, further creating a wall between them and any criticism they may encounter by painting any-and-all criticism as an attack on all women everywhere and playing on the gynocentric nature of us all in order to build human-shields around themselves so they are free to say and to do and to spew whatever abject hatred they wish without facing any repercussions for their actions.

Kill all men.

Men are trash.

And so forth and so on.

All this while trembling in forced fear and fragility; whilst screaming strength and powerful resistance to misogyny and the patriarchy, demanding protection and pampering from the patriarchy by the forces of patriarchal evil. For they are so strong, so powerful, so fantastic in their strength and endurance that they are too frail and weak to handle criticism without yelling and screaming about male chauvinism and a society that absolutely hates women, despite treating men like second-class citizens, ordered to go out of their way to better the existence of women and women only. So incredibly oppressed by the man that all of society only listen to feminism and women on issues having to do with sex and with gender. So oppressed by the evils that men do that they are in complete control of all our institutions. So oppressed, in fact, that merely a trembling finger in the direction of a conference on men’s issues is enough to shut it down for the controversy of the thing.

Strange, that.

In this society in which men have all the power and all the privilege, whereas women and feminism hold no power and no privilege, the mere trembled mutter from the quivering lips of a feminist is enough to close down conferences on issues affecting men due to controversy – or fear of controversy. How many hoops does one have to jump through in order to pretend that men are the privileged ones, when discussion of men’s issues not seen through the wrinkled binocular lenses of feminism are deemed controversial? One should think that it would be the other way around, were the rhetoric of feminism based on truth and not lies.

Feminism have told women that they must fear all men. Creating a hostile world for men is not a problem what-so-ever. Because that would be equality, that is the pinnacle of feminism, the perplexing wonder of its beacon, its shining light, its lonely kitten-wail into the night beneath the twinkling stars of ill intent. To create, to manufacture, to nurture and make bloom a constant fear and distrust of men in the hearts and minds of women, telling them that they are children in need of constant supervision, that the state need to step in and remove responsibilities from their shoulders and place ever more on the shoulders of men. And supervise constantly all doings, all goings, all lives, be they private or public. The personal must be political. The political must be personal. Such a frightening thing to see happen. Weaponized female fragility to allow the state to meddle even more in our lives and affairs. As long as women are kept safe.

As long as men don’t matter.

And we cope with it. And we accept it. And we bite the bullet, time and again. And we put up with it and we lay our lives and our mental health on the line. Over and over again. For the safety, the benefit, the protection of women. All the while these same women shout at us to do more, that we are dangerous, that we are a material manifestation of the wickedness of the world. That we need to disregard our own safety and our own needs so that the safety of women and the needs of women be met. By our hands, the world shall be saved from us. We do not need to talk about our issues. Because we have no issues, we have no problems, we have no societal ills eating at us, picking at us, devouring us bit by bit by bit, day by day. For all their impotent raving about toxic masculinity, the forces of feminism are sure as all hell good at telling men to man up.

If you give them an inch, they will take a mile. And then they complain that they never receive anything. And they twist and they turn and they spin on the truth until truth means nothing and facts are nowhere to be found and all is a confusing mess; a neurotic network of twisted cables and forced anxiety, a culture of fear handcrafted by ideologues whose collapsing sanity and frail weakness is painted as sanity, is painted as strength and as truth and as beauty.

Look at this weak-willed woman – how strong she is!

Look at this weak-willed man, how pathetic he is!

On and on it goes. The circle has no end and no beginning. It just goes on and on for ever. Unless it is broken. And it can only be broken by not playing this game, not partaking in this ridiculous clown-world reality of ours, where weakness is strength, up is down, down is up, strength is weakness, masculinity is toxic, even when masculinity is called forth to save the poor women who can never be toxic, unless influenced by some man more powerful than she is. Weak as she is, weak at the knees.

Let us all fall down on our knees and weep and tremble in fragile fear together.

The future of our societies is one in which anxiety, fear, trepidation and delusion is celebrated and shown to be strength. Where standing in the storm, surviving the trials of life by trudging ever forwards and not giving up, not giving in, but being strong in adversity is made out to be toxic behaviour.

Oh, mama, the path towards the future is paved with the frantic waving of anxiety; the celebration – not overcoming – of mental illness, a wallowing in fear and fever, in despair and weakness. Used to be we had to learn how to cope. Now we have to learn how not to cope. For if we cope, if we learn to cope and if we teach other people how to cope, the powerful will lose their power. For the powerful do thrive and grow on fear and fanaticism. There is much strength in female weakness. The sight of a woman in distress sends any man into protect-mode, running on overtime, and he will do whatever he can to save her from whatever imagined ill she is labouring beneath.

And the feminist hive-mind know this, even when they paint men as the enemy. They know that men will do whatever they can in order to ease the suffering of a woman. And they play and they prey upon this exact thing, upon this drive in men.

Too bad that so many of us are beginning to see this for what it is.

Too bad that more and more are waking up to this fact.

Even if it is slow-going.

Even if it takes forever.

Even if it will take an entire generation to undo the societal damage done by feminism, whose roar and screech and weaponized fear and weakness created a generation of perpetual victims incapable of looking at themselves, incapable of thinking inwards, incapable of doing anything but perpetuate the constant war, keeping the narrative going of men as the forces of evil and women as the forces of good.

We have always been at war with Eurasia.

War is peace.

Freedom is slavery.

Ignorance is strength.

The stability of feminism and their stranglehold on everything rely on keeping the status quo up and running; the view of men as eternal victimizers, strong and able and powerful, and women as perpetual victims, frail and weak and powerless.

There has to be a war between the genders. Otherwise, what is the point of feminism? Where should they then get their money, their power, their might, their influence? Where should they get their manipulative kicks and desires, if everyone woke up to this scam of theirs?

Just keep painting women as wonderful victims, then, and claim this to be strength.

Just keep painting men as horrible perpetrators, then, and claim this to be reasonable.

Just keep pushing for women to be treated better than men, then, claiming this to be equality.

Just keep telling the same old story; demonizing men and masculinity, sanctifying women and femininity, labelling it equal treatment.

Then wait.

Then look.

Then see what happens when your paper-castles crumble, your straw-men all fall down, and your gargantuan global industry comes crashing down around you to the sound of cheers and applause from those who finally woke up from their state-induced coma, driven, in no small way, by your propaganda.

 – Please like, share and subscribe

 – Moiret Allegiere, 25.05.2019

____________________________________________________________________________________________

Redbubble shop:

https://www.redbubble.com/people/Moiret/shop

Visit my blog:

https://moiretallegiere.wordpress.com/

Check out my youtubechannel:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC3IaCxAXE3pQd7PCdvHoaaA

Check out my bitchutechannel:

https://www.bitchute.com/channel/EvbGZyTZSraY/

Stalk me on social media (as long as it lasts):

twatter:

https://twitter.com/MAllegiere

Gab:

https://gab.ai/Moiret_Allegiere

Minds:

https://www.minds.com/Moiret

Flickr:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/152465815@N04/

On unfiltered thought-loops and “Read A Book”; A rant:

Awakening A3 lowres

Illustration: «Awakening», A3, 2019, Moiret Allegiere

 

Through unfiltered thought-loops, we are sullied. Immature minds bent in on themselves; noticing nothing outside the cataclysmic echo-chamber of their preconceived virtue-jerk-off. A blast-off hyper-speed ejaculate aimed squarely at the begging eyes of twitter-raiders, wide-and-wild-eyed, part chaotic, part vivid, part vicious, completely melting down.

Pride, the saying goes, goes before the fall. Too bad we lost the fall in our quest to alleviate the slightest imagined or straight-up manufactured ill. All that is left is vague varieties of pride going before the pride. Never falling, never falling, merely floating in the forefront of our collective hallucination where pride perceived as a thousand trembling gazes from a thousand trembling followers is of more importance than truth, than reason, than facts, than compassion, than intelligence.

Much too bad and much too sad that we – societally – are all so lost within our own safe-space virtue-rambling parody of conduct and humanity that we forgot humility and bravery, that we forgot compassion and duality, nuance and complexity. We traded it for pride, for vacuum and immediacy, gave it all away for virtue, vanity and superficiality, never thinking that we ourselves may be in the wrong. Such a complex organism is society, that our brilliance is being passed off as bigoted supremacy, that mere wishes to remain unsullied, thoughtful, contemplative and true is viewed through a light-bending prism of academic, over-complicated, over-thought and, essentially nonsensical gobble-de-gook, through guilt-laden late night drunken ramblings on social media hastily gobbled up by followers unerringly attempting not to stay out of the loop, and in so doing agreeing with everything as long as the possibility not to be perceived as bigoted and hateful is there; that is to say: not being perceived as bigoted or hateful towards the wrong kind of people.

Yes; we must hate, we must scream and rage and roar at the dying of the light at the coming of the night! We must fix the hollow burnt-out shelter that is our empty lives through mass-release of anger and hopeless frustration by pointing fingers squarely at what we perceive to be the grand enemy of our time, of our day, of our age and of our society, stagnant, dull and boring as it is, was, and always will be, consistently consistent, stable, safe and eternally boring as only a long and drawn-out dinner at grandmas house may be! Revolution. For the hell of it!

Yes we must hate! Yes we must scream and roar and rage and demand to be heard, hard and definitive! Frightened by our own shadows, maybe, yet that may be nothing but proof positive of our terrible oppression, maybe? And when we hate, we do not hate as others hate. We do not bring our passions from a common spring, but from a well of neuroticism boiling underneath our skin and in our sullen swollen hearts and tongues and eyelids plastered to our face with cheap reality-distorting reality-television and daytime television talk-shows telling us how pitiful we are, is, always will be, maybe baby!

They do not hate as others do; they hate immediately and with the unbridled passion of a one-night-stand, unhinged, unfeeling, un-calculated and freaky-deaky beneath the sweat-stained sheets and cobwebbed walls of their safe and comfortable gated communities where nothing ever touches them but the fractured fragments of their belated, sheltered, severed upbringing and the fantasies and phantasms this brings with it in lonely midnight-wanderings beneath the bloodstained moon of their narcissistic tendencies!

And there’s pride and there’s virtue and there’s prideful virtue and virtuous pride born from boredom and a swollen, septic need for validation gone mad, gone feverish, gone blind in an artificial reality concocted by ideologues with an axe to grind and a chip on their shoulders, sheltered from the real world and absolutely incapable of inhabiting a social space not made for them and them alone, and so demanding change so they shall feel safe and feel included in a world they do not care to understand through anything but tall tales read from books and dusty tomes written by the same sheltered arrogant bastards that read them.

A self-fuelling perpetual cycle of hate and mistrust trickling down from those who deem themselves to be our moral and intellectual superiors, hidden as equality, masked as altruism, painted as a virtuous, true and noble quest for good and decent goodness and decency so that all that see it shall be blinded by its light, and so be unable to read what the scriptures say, the dusty tomes, the fractured minds, the sheltered and the hateful ones.

And those that are blinded by this light take to social media to spread the light of the malaise, to show how dignified, justified, compassionate and virtuous they are, and do not for one moment stop to think or stop to look or stop to ponder and consider, as that would take away from the immediacy of the event, the knee-jerk emotional goodie-goodie sensation of being right, of being moral, just and justified in moral, righteous hate and anger.

Loaded to the brim with grim sensations of something vaguely unjust, they charge full-frontally and unblinkingly, unthinkingly, unknowingly into the fray, battle-ready and grim-faced, proud and perceivably strong and brave and courageous in speaking truth to power. And then, meeting resistance where they do not expect resistance, they falter, they fall, they shake and tremble vividly and tremendously as no-one has ever called them on their bullshit before, and they are loaded with nothing but emotive garbage and the feeding-force of their echo-chambers, their pre-conceived notions and expectations falling to rot when presented with facts and figures telling truth unspoken by mass-media which would rather mass-manufacture mass outrage than accurately report anything at all, as mass-manufactured mass outrage sells and money talks, even for hardened anti-capitalists selling branded merchandise to fight the power fantastic!

Fucking fantastic!

But it feels so good to be right, and so they must be right, right? Right. Double-right, triple-and-quadruple-right, comrade, don’t let these misogynists, these white supremacists, these homophobic neo-nazi troglodytes take you down.

Just tell them to read a book.

A nice retort.

That’ll show them.

That’ll give them what for.

It does not matter what book. It does not matter. Just say “read a book”, as if that sentence in itself brings with it shame and ridicule for the unwashed masses who can not read, who can barely walk and breathe at the same time.

Read a book.

How fucking arrogant, how god-damned stupid, how inconceivably rude.

Well, then, allow me to immediately bring to the forefront of your empty-headed cerebral cortex one iota of truth, as I have seen this “argument” from the synthetic tribes of the social justice warrior armada more than once, more than twice, more times than I care to count: this is not an argument. This means absolutely nothing. This is nonsensical.

Fucking “read a book”. As if this washes away anything said in contradiction to your claims, you filth-monger, you dong-merchant, you snake-oil salesperson of ill repute!

To enter the land of rants for a short segment of my rambling diatribe; we would read books if you and your ilk did not constantly attempt to get them banned, you fearful mongrel bastards of a honey-dripping life of luxury and overabundance. What; should I not make assumptions on your lives? Well, fuck off – don’t make assumptions of me based on my genitalia and the colour of my skin then. You judgemental, bigoted racist extra-terrestrial busybody snowflakes of vacuous virtue and unharnessed cancerous insanity clothed as muh equal something-or-other.

Through the wondrous magic of mass-manipulated propaganda, it is considered provocative and controversial to even mention that boys and men struggle in this fragmented dribble-and-drool society of ours, if not seen through the lens of feminism where boys and men are painted, not as a problem, not as having problems, but as the problem inherent in the system. No wonder boys and men are pissed off when they see, time and again, the same faulty statistics, the same lies and the same peddlers of lies peddling said lies about who has it worse and who suffers and how evil and vile men and masculinity are. And when objecting to this with clear facts instead of frail flights of fancy, it does not matter and they are not heard nor replied to with anything but arrogant holier-than-thou rudeness from people claiming they are the ones being attacked when attacking an entire gender!

No wonder boys and men get pissed off when they are constantly told either that their problems don’t matter at all, or that they are the problem by virtue of being themselves. Telling an entire segment of the population, for decades, that they are not themselves, that their sensations of being manly – of being masculine – is wrong, is not them, is but an act; that they are the cause of their problems as well as all other problems, that they have to change in order to save the world… ridiculing an entire segment of the population when they attempt to bring up their very real problems, shaming them into quite quiet submission… laughing at them when they are victimized or when they attempt to bring attention to the suicide rates or to the injustices faced by them in a system which, purportedly, are set up so only they shall succeed, even when they fall off the grid and drift away eternally and see no help coming their way from the might of the powers-that-be that be supposedly there for their benefit and their benefit only…

No wonder, the state of it all.

And then the forces claiming to work towards equality mock and ridicule when attempts to bring up problems faced by other human beings seeking equal treatment as human beings; not accepting facts and figures contrary to their claims, but refusing to listen and refusing to understand based on nothing but the gender and the colour of the skin of the people responding to their ridiculous and disproven claims of unequal treatment, washing it all away with incredible contempt and fantastic rudeness, painted as fighting the power and as being the kind warriors for justice for all! All, of course, meaning everyone but boys and men. One can only assume that, since boys and men don’t deserve human rights, these forces for good do not consider boys and men to be human beings. Why else would they be so pissed off and so torn apart by a loose-knit movement seeking human rights for human beings?

Boys and men, according to the feminist hive-mind, according to society, according to our politicians and our teachers and our everything, do not have feelings, and are not human beings, and as such are not deserving of basic human compassion and understanding.

Merely shame, blame, neglect and an incalculable amount of vile rudeness, time and again being told that our problems do not matter, that shining a spotlight on our issues detracts from the issues of women which are – clearly – more important than the issues facing boys and men. And, obviously, stating that boys and men are human beings and so also deserving of human compassion and consideration is hating women.

Because the feminist movement hate men, so it is only natural for them to project this hatred onto the broader men’s movement, telling us in no uncertain terms that a movement for women think like this about men, therefore a movement for men must necessarily think like this about women. Minds bent in on themselves, undoubtedly incapable of viewing anything from a point of view not immediately in front of their eyes or in the midst of their bellybutton!

For a movement claiming equality, they sure as hell do all they can so that equal treatment shall not come around, so that the issues affecting boys and men shall not be taken seriously.

I’ve spent the entirety of my life reading books. I grew up in books. I spent so much time at the library, I might as well have set up camp there. I had friends come visit me at the library. I still read books whenever I can, and always bring books with me, no matter where I’m going. So which book would that be, that I should read?

Would you vile cretins of phoney virtue and solipsist systems accept this as an argument from me? Would you accept me proposing that you read a book as a perfect and permanent solution to our argument, or would you consider this as nothing but the vague “I am smarter than you, you peasant” put-down and cop-out that it is?

Read a book, indeed.

How about viewing boys and men as human beings, and treating men and women equally?

Please like, share and subscribe.

  • Moiret Allegiere, 10.04.2019

____________________________________________________________________________________________

links:

Visit my blog:

https://moiretallegiere.wordpress.com/

Check out my youtubechannel:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC3IaCxAXE3pQd7PCdvHoaaA

Check out my bitchutechannel:

https://www.bitchute.com/channel/EvbGZyTZSraY/

Stalk me on social media (as long as it lasts):

twatter:

https://twitter.com/MAllegiere

Gab:

https://gab.ai/Moiret_Allegiere

Minds:

https://www.minds.com/Moiret

Flickr:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/152465815@N04/

Ideological Purity, white as the driven snow:

Noone there lowres

Ill: «No-one there», A3, 2019, Moiret Allegiere

In a world, in a time, in a place possessed such as we are by the proclaimed virtues of ideological purity, we prove on a global scale that we have not learned anything from our history. We live, and we do not learn. One set of ideas or another; it does not matter to the vacuum that is humanity, or, more to the point – the faulty memory of humanity. For some reason or other, time and again, one set of ideas will rise above all others and settle in our confused cosmic collective consciousness and promptly become the default state of thought and of being for one and all within the anthill we inhabit. If one does not submit to this set of ideas, one will be made to submit to this set of ideas, through shaming, bullying, harassment, misrepresentations, social ostracising, removal of livelihood and more. One set of ideas happy-slapped into our cultural zeitgeist for decades; from one set of young eyes to another in sanctified halls of supposed learning, passed down through generations; a genetic defect presented as the truth, the one truth, the truth fantastic. Only this one path to tread, and none other.

This is indeed a frightening tendency. Inevitably, it leads to a lack of nuance, a lack of balance, to a one-sided narrative where up is up and down is also up, as long as up and down can be made to be two sides of the same coin. And it will be made to be two sides of the same coin through an incredible display of mental gymnastics designed in just such a way as to show both sides of the coin at the same time. We slip and we slide and then we fall, once again, into the realm of political propaganda and indoctrination. Truth be told, we probably never left.

Voices squawk, speak, and present and all voices present themselves to be the one truth. The true-true, the new-old-truth of aeons past and ages present.

Then one voice presenting viciously one voice, one side, one set of ideas manage to rise above all other voices in the cacophony of cerebral screeching and gutter-mouthed madness that is the battlefield of propaganda. It wins the popular vote through a massive and fantastic manipulation of our very empathetic natures. Twisting and turning words and truths in a manner subtle, sublime, magical and majestic so that the words and meanings resonate wonderfully with our own inner vibrations of what is just and what is right and what is true and what is proper. A fantastic twisting and turning, marvellously engineered so as to make sense when spoken and when read. The surface-narrative surfaces and wins the popular vote. And so, the people are won over to the one side, the one idea, the one ideology deemed by itself to be the only true ideology, the only true path, winning its place through dishonesty or violence or both. And when once the place is won, the power grabbed and the people made subject to the propaganda, the place, the power and the propaganda are not easily done away with. It lingers. It grows. And it festers, infecting safe and sane and healthy tissue all around it.

For the sake of not burning the infected tissue out, for the sake of keeping the infection spreading, the infection needs to make sure we know that it is not, in fact, an infection but a necessary part of our body. Thus; the ideology is presented as fact and as truth from early childhood, and still presented as truth and as fact through all manners and all means in media and in common dialogue, in political nonsense-speech from political nonsense-politicians more interested in their own careers than in speaking truth; babble-mouthed and helpful idiots furthering the cause of the ideology and of the infection, building not upon any system of value within themselves, but a wish to remain popular, elected and in a position of power.

No semblance of critical thought.

No semblance of self-ownership.

No-one wants to be on the outside; all want to be popular, to be part of the in-group, the now, the click and hive and swing of things. And so they pose with T-shirts proudly promoting the one set of ideas as the true path towards equal treatment of one and of all. And do lip-service in front of the altar of the dominant ideology, lest they be purged themselves and relocated to the gulag for re-education.

This is what a feminist looks like, they’ll say with a hollow voice, and I’ll be damned if I don’t wear a T-shirt proudly labelling myself a follower of the church of the latter-day offended, never gazing beneath the surface-narrative of equality and prosperity and truth and beauty, and just as North Korea is the pinnacle of democracy, because it is in the name of the Democratic People’s republic of Korea, feminism is about equality, because it is in the definition of the movement and all evidence to the contrary be damned; the immediate virtue-signal of me being moral and just and right and proper is far better and more important than thinking, seeing and understanding the beast whose cause I am championing. Best to follow the ideology. Showcase myself to be of ideological purity, lest the zealots push me out of my profession and out of society itself!

Questioning the dominant ideology is a sure-fire way to get caught in the crossfires of ideological warfare which, for all intents and purposes where feminism is concerned, mirrors spiritual warfare. Label it as this or as that on the surface, and those who do not gaze beneath the surface will not see the rot for lack of looking, thinking and smelling.

The further into the subconscious this ideology pushes itself, the harder it is to do away with. It has been pushed and pushed for decades, indoctrinated into us in ways that would not have been accepted were it any other set of ideas. Imagine, if you will, Catholicism being pushed and promoted in public schools as the one-and-only truth of our day and age. Or any other religion, for that matter. People would – rightly – be up in arms. And yet, feminism is allowed in our cultural madness, to be taught as the true path towards salvation and enlightenment, to tangle us all, from an early age, within its web of empty words, hollow lies and vacuous moral grandstanding.

An ideology pushed and promoted in schools supposedly free of political indoctrination. What a fantastic time to be alive! A neutral place of learning, excepting where feminism is concerned, because feminism is the truth and nothing but the truth in the eyes and minds of the fervent followers of the victim-cult. So it is not indoctrination, it is not pushing an ideology. It is pushing the truth.

To the ideologically possessed and wilfully blind, truth is whatever the hell they say that it is. Evidence to the contrary need not apply, because they do not believe in it and so it is dismissed out of hand and done away with; out of sight, out of mind. The greatest idea the devil ever had was to convince people that he is not real.

This ought to prove the grip on our society which this ideology have managed to gain; clear evidence to the contrary of their claims are done away with, and no-one cares about this. And those attempting to showcase this evidence are done away with and stuck with all manners of derogatory and horrible labels; labelled as the enemy of the people by the promoters and propagandists of the ideology, as well as by the public at large, beings who have been indoctrinated into useful idiots and military storm-troopers for the ideology – to do their bidding and their dirty work. To do away with the non-believers, the heretics, the witches and warlocks, the foul free-thinkers of our day and age, the horrible bringers of nuance and balance into the infected discussion. To do away with the apostates.

How can one be against feminism? It is only about equality, you know.

Well, here is evidence to the contrary.

Oh, well, women have it worse, you know.

OK – here is evidence to the contrary.

Fuck you, you misogynist – everyone! Come get the misogynist, he hates and harasses women! I bet he beats his wife as well.

Burn the witch! Kill the non-believer! Destroy his family, destroy his bloodline! He is out of line. Those who oppose feminism is the witches of our age.

And so it goes. Here we sit, we who oppose the feminist dogma, anxiously awaiting the Gulag and our re-education; waiting for one of our close feminist friends or relatives to come into our lives with many a flirt and a flutter, to show us the errors of our ways and bring unto us the light of salvation, pointing to one disproven talking-point after the other of the feminist propaganda-circus. Disregarding any voices in opposition and waving it away as wrong-think, never even considering the voices in opposition or the evidence at hand. Genital mutilation of infant boys being legal, while genital mutilation of girls are illegal being waved away as a non-issue, despite the clear and blatant double-standard of the thing. Domestic violence being painted as men’s violence against women when it need not be viewed through a gendered lens at all, thus causing male victims of domestic violence to be disbelieved and not finding any support, more often than not being painted as the perpetrator of violence despite being the victim?

This does not matter to the mind of the feminist.

Men don’t matter, only women.

Odd that this clear gendered double-standard comes from the voice claiming to be about equal treatment of the genders.

If feminism really believed that the genders should be treated equally, they ought to treat the genders equally. This means offering understanding, sympathy, empathy and aid to men as well as women. This means allowing for the understanding that both men and women are capable of both good and evil, and that the vast majority of both are not guilty of evil. This means considering men and women both as human beings, both able to victimize and be victimized by the other. No one gender has a monopoly on violence, and no one gender has a monopoly on being a victim of violence. And, with men being far more likely to be the victim of violent assault than women are, I find it incredibly interesting how we chose to focus on ending violence against women – the minority of victims. Surely, were we to operate on the basis of equality, the focus should be on ending violence against all? Or, should we allow the funding and the awareness-raising to go such as the feminists make it go – towards the demographic perceived to be suffering the most of the issue – it should be about ending violence against men. Of course, this does not resonate within the feminist mind, since that is a warped and destroyed mind. Men do most of the violence, is their rebuttal, as if that in and off itself, is an argument. So what, I say to that, should we care less about the victim because he happens to share the gender of his victimizer? What manner of moon-logic is this? This only makes sense if you do not treat the genders equally.

Worst fucking patriarchy ever.

Women are so horribly oppressed you know, and feminism is the underdog fighting the top-dog, the anti-establishment factor in our split-down-the-middle societies, where men and women are in constant war by the insistence of feminism. The weird and peculiar instance where the underdog is the top-dog, pretending to be the underdog so as to gain popular vote and sympathy. Because everyone loves an underdog, everyone loves to see the underdog rise to prominence and succeed where it was doomed to fail.

The obvious fact that feminism is the establishment, and has been for decades, matter little to the promoters, followers and believers in the ideology, the cult, the religion, the sect, the madness. Because they want to be the underdog, they want to be the brave warriors for truth and justice, they want to view themselves as fighting the good fight, and they sure as hell do not want to confront themselves and maybe have to change their minds.

Because the stubborn nature of humanity reaches further than our wilful blindness in regards to history and our tendency to repeat every single failure we have ever done ad infinitum. And the cause to champion is the moral and just cause to champion. And it is the moral and just cause to champion because the cause have told them this, time and again, making sure that everyone does nothing but scan the surface by bullying the ones who dare stare into the abyss, by becoming the abyss staring back. It is excruciatingly simple to flock to the banner of the popular cause. One meets little resistance then, and is accepted into the hive and seen as one who plays the game of life proper, not some weird hermit who refuses to play the game of life proper. Our anthill has no need for outcasts – everyone is equally inferior both within and without.

There has to be a war. Otherwise, people might start thinking. So why not make it a gender-war? Why not pit man and woman against each other, and in so doing promoting the idea that A) it was men that started it all through being men and nothing but that, B) feminism is the banner under which all women gather and fight the wickedness of men, and to which banner some men, learning the errors of their ways, flock so as to be allies and worthy of women, C) all men, everywhere, benefit from the oppression of women, and D) any hatred towards men by feminism or women is justified due to the false idea that men started it all.

Beat this idea into the impressionable minds of kids. And very, very soon, you will see the blatant hatred of men being considered justified. To such an extent that “Misandry don’t real!”, is the words of choice by the gracious feminist hive-mind which is clearly only about equality, yet sees no qualms in labelling all men as guilty and accountable for the bad actions of one man and in so doing pushing for laws and legislations favouring women at the expense of men.

Equality means nothing, when supremacy has become the norm. And supremacy has become the norm through countless years of pure and unopposed propaganda and indoctrination, in which an invisible god-figure bogeyman dubbed “the patriarchy” will be the default scape-goat of everything. Men kill themselves more? Well, that’s the patriarchy for you. Women chose to stay at home? Well, that’s the patriarchy for you. More men die at work than women, by an incredible amount? Well, that’s the patriarchy for you. Women chose to be strippers or grid girls? Well, that’s the patriarchy for you. Men are conscripted and made to go to war? Well, that’s the patriarchy for you.

And so it goes, onwards and ever onwards, creating a figurehead to fight, a free-floating illusionary conspiracy-theory grounded not in reality but in a very human longing for something quick, simple and easy to blame when things go wrong, a quick and easy answer to complex questions: it is the fault of patriarchy, considering men to be of so much more worth than women that men are the disposable and expendable ones, whereas women must be protected. It would have been the worst patriarchy ever, were the propaganda not so engrained in our society that the default answer then is that patriarchy hurts men too, it only helps the men at the top. Then completely disregarding the women at the top, in order to feed their bogeyman-myth. And, through this myth, being able to dismiss and disregard any issues facing men brought up by men as misogyny, wishing to take away from women. Because sharing resources, be those resources material or emotional equally goes completely against the tenets of feminism, seekers of equality that they of course are. All must be treated equally! But women must receive more help, more funding must go towards women’s issues, women must be granted this or that at the expense of men, in the quest for equal treatment of the genders. And men need not receive anything, not even an ear willing to listen or hands willing to help. Men must help, and if men can not help, they are unnecessary men and we have no use for them. Which, of course, is painted as the fault of the patriarchy. Clever.

To my mind, there is little wonder that there is such a disregard for the issues facing men as well as the experiences of men. When the view of both society and of history begins with the idea that men – and only men – have had power and freedom throughout history where women have lacked both, and that men as a group have oppressed women as a group throughout history, it is easy to disregard men.

The black and white thinking of group A good, group B bad echoes down through the ages. There is no need to consider the issues and experiences of the group considered the oppressors, the wielders of power, because their experiences are the only experiences told and considered through the annals of history.

And so, it is time that group A gets considered.

Just a damn shame that things are not as simple as that, but it can easily be made out to be as simple as that. Just drive the ideology home, and the social pressures will do the rest. Crank the handle of purity and make the great machine of society purge the ones who do not conform to the essence of purity that is the dominant ideology, the pure and unbending law of the land. Purge them with the wealthy machine of propaganda, infecting the minds of the hive with the notion that opposition to the ideology is opposition to equality, and that everyone opposing it also opposes the stability and safety of our system, our society, our machine, our hive, and most importantly: our women.

In the feminist utopia, everyone gets bread to eat and wood to feed their ovens. Excepting men, who gets neither bread nor wood – especially not in the mornings. Excepting those who do not subscribe to the dominant ideology of our day and age – they will not participate, and so they deserve neither. The only thing they deserve is assassination of character and loud calls for re-education through the gibbering nonsense that is social media, through the fantastical hell-scape that is the immediate knee-jerk reaction of those who have not delved beneath the surface, who have seen nothing but the tip of the iceberg, who have not felt the frenzied charge and attack of the ideology and its followers upon their mind and their bodies, who are not marked and scarred eternally by the might and claws and teeth of the beast.

We are being governed, watched and – metaphysically – killed by the viral infection; ripples spreading outwards from the centre, great waves beating against us and knocking us down. We who are not ideologically pure will be shamed and ostracised for raising our voices in concern, for daring to think for ourselves and question the dominant narrative of the here-and-now, the ferocious vulgarity preached by the followers of the church of the latter-day offended, whose wilful blindness, stubborn egotism, ideological indoctrination and roars of existential dread and rage whenever opposition is met leads towards a lack of nuanced debate.

There is no debate to be had when the only tactic used against opposing views are lies, slander and guttural roars of disgust; lack of arguments hiding behind moral outrage, lack of insight and lack of thought and lack of rebuttal masked behind the eternal battle-cry of those who do not see that their minds are closed and the key thrown away by the ideologues who fed them lies from childhood on; the battle-cry that says nothing but “This is wrong because it offends me!” Showing nothing but the demand to shut down the debate on grounds of perceived moral wrongs, caring nothing for the truth or for the facts or for anything but the ideology said to be the only ideology caring for equality, the only ideology being moral, the only ideology being just: the ideology of feminism, claiming to be nothing but a movement for human rights, yet being nothing but yet another ideology demanding complete and utter blind submission from every member of society.

As it was yesterday, so it shall be today. Only the names and the seasons change; the tribe remains the same – to follow, to submit, or to be cast out.

– Moiret Allegiere, 16.03.2019

______________________________________________________________________________________________

Visit my blog:

https://moiretallegiere.wordpress.com/

Check out my youtubechannel:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC3IaCxAXE3pQd7PCdvHoaaA

Check out my bitchutechannel:

https://www.bitchute.com/channel/EvbGZyTZSraY/

Stalk me on social media (as long as it lasts):

twatter:

https://twitter.com/MAllegiere

Gab:

https://gab.ai/Moiret_Allegiere

Minds:

https://www.minds.com/Moiret

Flickr:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/152465815@N04/

What makes a man suicide? Rambling on traditional expectations and suicide.

Portrait artist cofee lowres

Ill: «Selfportrait with morning coffee», A3, 2019

What makes a man?

Is a man naught but muscles, tendons, organs and primal lust vibrating within a shell clumsily assembled to resemble a human being; an imitation of humanity manspreading viciously beneath a monochromatic sky, nervously anticipating his next oppressive conquest?

Is a man naught but an unfeeling automaton, completely and utterly devoid of basic human emotion, empathy and intimacy; a mass-manufactured cybernetic organism slowly gaining sentience and self-awareness and, in so doing, coming to realise his might, strength and ability to subjugate others to fulfil his own selfish needs?

Is a man naught but a replicant, an android created specifically to do the hard, uninspiring and menial labour society deems to be the low-status jobs; the hard and monotonous, the filthy, dirty, sweaty, dangerous professions filled only by those whom we – in our weird and dissociative state of being – consider to be of less importance, those whom we consider to be disposable, expendable, nameless, faceless, those who move the world?

Is a man naught but a nervous, trembling mass of violent impulses and barely contained rape; a sexually deviant beast, malformed, shapeless, barely cogent in his guttural ululations resembling language and emotive expressions consisting of mere primal urges; to fornicate, procreate, expand his territory, conquer his enemies and then exterminate them?

Is a man naught but a perpetual work-horse, the doer for others, a vibrant shade of history, of his story; to do for others, to sacrifice and to do for others, existing within the frame of mind of those for whom he is expected to sacrifice as nothing but the protector/provider, to be is to do, to do is to be, toodle-do… Does he then disregard his own state of being in order to be locked down in a state of doing so he is not disregarded by others as a being of less value from his lack of doing?

Is this state of being really and truly the state of privilege? Is the bogged down, simplified, dehumanizing view of a man as a human-doing, not a human-being an example of gender-privilege?

To put it in other terms: if a man is killed in war, does anyone hear him scream?

Even more bluntly: when a man is killed in this nonsensical gender-war, why won’t anyone hear him scream?

Why do we refuse to see the suffering of men and of boys in this shivering mass of tentacles and cosmic horrors we have allowed our societies to devolve into?

There is something to be said for traditionalism, apparently, as traditional values is still the expected state of being for a man: to sacrifice himself for the benefit of those around him, disregarding his own well-being, be that well-being psychological or physiological. In a very strict sense, I am not a traditionalist. The simple reason for this is that it chains both man and woman to pre-determined destinies, removing a degree of individual freedom which I would rather not see be removed. In a biological sense, however, it seems the traditional path is the path upon which we all thread, subconsciously, led by the hands of our very nature; our state of being being such that women and children must be protected to ensure the continuation of our species. And if that means the self-sacrifice of men, so be it. Or so the story goes. It does make sense, from a biological perspective. We are, however, in a state of being in which we are able to transcend the purely biological.

This state of being is very clearly reflected in the gender argumentation; the feminist assault on all things traditional whenever a traditional path involves women. Women shall be freed from the constraints of traditionalism. OK.

That I think, is more than fair.

I have no qualms with this.

I believe everyone should be free to follow their own path and do with their lives as they wish to do. And when I say everyone, I actually mean everyone – man and woman alike. And when I say do with their lives as they wish, I mean exactly that – as they wish. As long as no-one does anything against anyone against their wishes, I don’t care what people do with their lives. Thread whichever path you wish. Just remember that your rights end where the rights of someone else begins. In simple terms.

This, of course, does not mean that I will not judge people on their actions. Nor does it mean that I will not comment on these actions. It means, quite simply, that I see absolutely no reason why I should force someone to live a certain way, whether I agree with a certain way of life or not.

When the feminist hive-mind of ravenous virtue and vulturous morality raise their screeching voices in opposition to traditionalism, and howl dementedly at the moon-goddess Luna about freedom from gender-roles, they speak only in regards to women. This would all have been fine and dandy, were it not for the fact that they propose to speak on behalf of both man and woman, that the groin-grabbing metal-claw that is their hands have firmly clasped the scrotum of our distorted discord in regards to gender.

When the clearly female-centric ideology of feminism, whose legacy has granted us such vitriolic hatred and contempt for all things masculine as to be completely dismissed when speaking on behalf of men and boys, proposes to speak on behalf of men and boys, we ought to be worried and we ought to protest this. This is one of those things that are truly worrisome and frightening, and one of the main reasons I have launched my own war against feminism: an ideology orbiting one gender is the only voice heard, or allowed to speak, on behalf of both genders. And this is absolutely nonsensical. However, it ties firmly and neatly into all things traditional. Women must be protected and must be granted any-and-all, if we are to carry this human DNA into the future of mutual delusion that seems to be the path we have chosen. And men and boys must be sacrificed, or be called to, forced to, made to sacrifice themselves on behalf of women and children. And here come the he for she, once again, a speech lauded as revolutionary and fantastic, as something profound and something clever whilst being absolutely nothing but a rehashing of what we have already been doing all through the murky haze of our shared collective history. He for she.

Him go hunt big mammoth, him protect mate. Him make sure harm not come to young. Him bring meat and warm skin of mammoth. Him protect, him provide.

Of course, traditionalism was based around a sense of mutual respect, cooperation and – dare I even say – love, with both parts of a relationship doing for the other part, and in turn for the rest of the family unit. All doing their part. Or, that is my understanding of it. I was born far too late to see traditionalism in full fucking swing. I was born into the era of feminism, within whose auditorium I was told relentlessly and repetitiously about my own wickedness and the sins of my father and my fathers father and my fathers fathers father, for whose sins I must pay with my self-respect, my well-being and my blood, if need be. And in front of the shining and shimmering altar of feminist revisionist history, beneath her fragile goddess-form, I was made to kneel and told to do all I could for whichever woman was unlucky enough to cross my path; whose mere countenance I was lucky to behold and whose footprints and whispering voice should be the be-all, end-all of my life. He for she.

And here come the traditional expectations thrown at men; shackled and chained still in the good old gender-roles which feminism purports to have broken down, disassembled and done away with. To do for women. To do and not to be. To prove himself worthy by virtue of his ability to protect and to provide for her, for the family, for the union of their loins and sweaty groins, or merely for the hope of the unity of their loins and sweaty groins. And all this whilst proclaiming freedom from pre-determined roles for one and all, arguing past oppression as a means to justify the fervent, violent, never-ending assault on all things masculine. Justifying and popularizing hatred and subsequent subjugation of one gender and one gender only through a wilfully hazy recollection of things past.

And just as the future ain’t what it used to be once we grow up and become more cynical and less hopeful, the past ain’t what it used to be once we grow intellectually and are able to critically analyse history and data both, to see that the mirage offered us by feminist historians and pedagogues mirror not history, but wish-tory, a wishy-washy way of pointing to this or to that in order to show how horribly women were treated in ages past; chained to the kitchen and to the home while the men were free to cavort joyously in the wild and gigantic jungles of societies past, swinging from the branches of the trees drunk on their own power with no obligations, no chains and no shackles and no worries, free as free could be in the horrid morning of our modern civilization, prior to the feminist utopia we now see spread-eagled before us on the dusty ground.

If by “free” you mean 14+ hours a day in the coal-mines for incredibly little pay. If by free you mean obligated to provide and to protect for someone who was of far more social worth; of so much worth, in fact, that they could not possibly be expected to sacrifice those hours, days, weeks, months, years of their life and of their safety in dank and horrid caverns, gaining nothing but a barely liveable wage and black lungs from inhaling coal all day, every day, all week, every week.

Strange, that the past is viewed as though it mirrors the present, even when not the case. Childbirth was far more dangerous in those horrible days of yore. For both mother and child. Survival was not guaranteed. Medicine was not what it is today. Our modern miracles of medicine have not always been there, you know. Surely, it makes sense then, in order to keep the woman and the child safe, that they should be at home? That the man should take care of the risky business of making a living – making a living for all, I would add. Life was harder. Things were tougher. One can not look at the past with the lenses of today, claiming that it is like this now, so it was like that then. Things change, times change, progress is made and things do not stay the same, and things have not stayed the same. Sacrifices had to be made, by one and by all. Note, please, that I do not in any way intend to downplay the role of the mother, the wife, the woman in this scenario. Things were surely tough and hard for all. I am simply trying to offer perspective. The past was not hard for women. It was hard for everyone, except the few who wielded power. Yeah, most of those with power were male. This does not mean that men had power. Nor does it mean that now. It does not mean that men in power would benefit men and men only. Nor does it mean that now. That would be the apex-fallacy, gracious xister, wondrous xir. The one percent at the top being this or that does not reflect the 99 percent not at the top, who happen to be this or that.

*

Which brings me to the beginning. What makes a man? Or, to the strangely convoluted point of this ramble: what makes a man suicide? As we can see from the statistics, men are far more at risk of suicide than women. This goes for the entirety of the world, with very few exceptions: ( http://www.suicide.org/international-suicide-statistics.html )

This is very clearly a subject with no easy answer, and it is a subject I am somewhat reluctant to tackle. There are many factors and variables at play, and for personal reasons it is a subject which is very near and dear to my heart and gut and balls. It is difficult to write about, because it is a difficult subject.

Speaking from my own personal experience as a thirty-something male, I can not remember one single instance from any school I attended where I heard anything positive and uplifting said in regards to boys and men. Quite the contrary: the focus was always and ever on lifting girls and women up and above, often at the detriment of boys and men. I mention this frequently in my writings, as I consider it to be very important. I don’t think there is anything wrong with lifting girls and women up. Of course there isn’t. There is something wrong with lifting girls and women – and only girls and women – up. Giving positive messages to one gender and one gender only for perceived equality is quite obviously contrary to equality. It is treating one better than the other. And this is happening at schools all the time, across the entire fucking western world.

Not one instance of boys being lifted up and told that they could do whatever they wanted to, be whatever they aspired to be. It was always, from teachers as well as pupils, Girls rule, boys drool. Overt or covert, it did not matter.

Our teachers, infused with feminism and the high-and-mighty flap-jackery of moral virtue, dignity and compassion granted them by the feminine divine, saw no qualms in telling boys that they were the root cause of the evils of the world, as well as telling them – driving the point home with pin-point accuracy as often as possible – that their emotional maturation was far slower than the girls, and as such that the girls were far more mature than the boys. Our very nature was, through this, made out to be wrong, to be of lesser worth and of lesser maturity than the nature of girls. At the same time, we were told that gender was a social construct. Odd then, that emotional maturation in itself was something to be trusted, given the social constructionist bull-shittery of the thing. This of course translated into a covertly – or overtly – hostile environment for the boys.

No mind, never matter, this ain’t no thing, as armies of indoctrinated feminists spouted feminist dogma in their early teens, completely incapable of understanding it or viewing it with any form of critical eye but the severe moral grandstanding of “we – the girls – are oppressed by you – the boys. You owe us.” And there come the entitlement from noxious drones fighting the good cause; a cause into which they had been brainwashed from early days at school, indoctrinated into severe entitlement translating into a distrust and putting-down-off boys, whose lives and value to themselves through the very same indoctrination mattered less and became less than that of the girls; whose aspirations in life mattered little and whose ability to reach, as it were, for the stars had to be put aside and trodden into the ground so that the girls should be lifted up, at the expense of the boys. Boys whom, it must also be mentioned, were diagnosed with ADD or ADHD and put on brain-altering and highly addictive chemicals for the crime of being a boisterous boy trapped in an environment not tailored nor suited to him.

Is there any wonder, then, that suicide is such a big killer of young men? There has never been – in my lifetime – any focus on lifting up boys, on making boys feel good about themselves. Quite the contrary. Boys have been told to make amends for years of so-called oppression carried out by their forefathers. Boys have been told that they are rapists-in-waiting, that any sexual desire they may feel should be a source of shame, that their sexuality is simplistic and primitive.

And this from schools, whose teachers are supposed to be the ones from whom facts and truths about the world shall be made clear. It translates into confusion. Chivalry. Confusion. Girls and boys are of equal worth, we are told. So why shall boys and men sacrifice for the well-being and the up-lifting of girls and women at the expense of themselves? Why shall we then not expect the same standards, the same responsibilities for one self from girls as we do for boys? Shall not girls and boys cooperate? Shall not women and men cooperate? Giving and receiving in equal measures, being told the same so as to lift both up? In this age of equality, why is it only the lives, well-being, future, of girls that matter, and why must the boys be thrown to the wolves?

Revenge.

Revenge and retribution for perceived prior oppression.

Revenge.

Reparations paid by a generation of boys and young men who have done nothing wrong but be born with a set of cock and balls on their battle banner in this manufactured gender war, manufactured by ideologues whose gripe with the world at large translates into psychosis – a dissociative state from whose point of view all is translucent, fleeting and nonsensical, with no values but the emotional knee-jerk reaction of offence taken for the sake of taking offence.

And growing further from this den of indoctrination, young girls grow up to be young women, and still being told the same thing – girls rule the world. You can do anything, you can be anything, boys drool, girls rule. And young boys grow up to be young men, still hearing the same – girls rule, girls can be all, boys and men must help girls and women.

And no-one must help boys and men, not even themselves.

Boys and men are driven into a life of servitude – driven into the same traditional gender-roles which the feminist hive-mind claim to have eradicated. Now, they may claim that they have eradicated it for men as well. But this is simply not true. And this is made evident in the words and actions of feminists themselves, who still demand men do for them, sacrifice for them, giving them their all whilst having no right to demand anything in return. In our secular societies, for lack of God, we have given the position of deity to the exalted state of womanhood – to give to her, to do for her, to make for her, to pray to her so that she may absolve us of our sins and so that we may become – to her eyes and mind and ears and claws – redeemed, cleansed and worthy of the heavenly bliss that is her companionship.

Through this lens of equality, boys and men are told that their path towards healing is wrong. That we need to open up and talk about our feelings, instead of repressing them. As if the feminine path to healing wherein emotions are discussed is the one and only path towards healing. Men, in general terms, are drawn towards action as a means of healing. Or, failing that, solitude. To mull things over on their own. Whereas women are drawn to social circles, seeking comfort in friends and in family. There is nothing wrong with this. The issue comes when boys and men are told to heal in a manner contrary to their nature, as if their very nature and their natural path towards healing is wrong. As if we only act a certain way, not that we are a certain way. The mere notion that men only act manly is insulting in and off itself. Try telling a woman to stop acting like a woman all the time, and see what results you get. It wouldn’t be accepted. But boys and men are supposed to accept it; the narrative of toxic masculinity being what kills men. As a boy becomes a man, the first thing he realizes, if he listens to this gobsmacking advice, is that there is no-one there willing to listen to his problems. He might open up as much as he may; the best he can get is half-interested nods and blinks. The worst he can get is being told he suffers from fragile masculinity, which is odd considering his apparent toxic masculinity is what causes him to not talk about his issues. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. Laying down, as the ground-rules for discourse, that the very nature of men is faulty does contribute, in my view, to the suicide rates in no small way.

Keep in mind that I am writing on feminism, not women. That, although feminism wishes it to be so, feminism does not equal women. And women does not equal feminism. Feminism have become, for all intents and purposes, a religion. It is a cult. It is a dogmatic victim-cult, hell-bent on revenge, fuelled by its own mythology, maintaining a canon of saints and prophets whose words and deeds shall not be taken in vain, or be set upon by arguments. Feminism has become untouchable. And dangerous. And its reach is such that it has infiltrated everything; the medieval catholic church packaged anew. No-one expects the feminist inquisition! Yet, one and all should expect the feminist inquisition, as they come rampaging and roaring and screeching your way the moment you voice opposition to their dogma and their orthodoxy.

Young boys shown feminism as the true path towards equality between the genders from an early age are sure to believe it. Even when experiencing, time and again, that it does not view the genders as equal. Even when experiencing, time and again, that the dogmatic victim-cult treats the genders quite the opposite of equally. All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others. Through indoctrination and through brainwashing, their belief, as well as the belief of the girls, in feminism and feminism only is ground into them from an early age. And experiencing the forked serpentine tongue of feminism upon their soul and their bodies may only breed cognitive dissonance. On the one hand, they are told that we are all equal and that we are all treated equally. On the other, they are shown through actions and words that they are not. And being told, time and again, of the errors of their ways by their very nature, through no fault of their own, confusion breeds within. Confusion and inner turmoil.

Men are overrepresented in all the negative statistics – victims of violence, drug and substance abuse, homelessness, suicide, joblessness, hopelessness, despair and grimness, lower age expectancy and dying more often at work. And what are we doing about this? We are focusing solely on girls and on women, and are told when trying to bring up these facts, that it is not a gendered issue and so we must not view this through the lens of gender. The gendered lens is brought out solely when girls and women are perceived as, or can be made out to be, the sole or main victims of some societal ill or other. Then – and only then – will it be perceived as a gendered issue. But when boys and men fall victim to the horrors of societal ills, it does not need to be treated as a gendered issue. Incredibly strange, is it not? It is a gendered issue whenever women can be made out to be the most affected. It is not a gendered issue whenever men can be made out to be the most affected.

It is the grim sensation of hopelessness settling in our chests and in our stomachs. A grim spectre of purposelessness and a loss of direction. Boys and men are not needed, we are told from a tender age. Because we need to lift the girls and the women up and above. The point is driven home, time and again, through mass-media mass-manufacturing the same vile hatred of boys, men and masculinity due to the mass-media now being infected with the girls and women who grew up with these tall tales of feminism being served them on a silver-platter all through their education, teaching them that they are above reproach and that boys and men are below them and owe them their lives and their servitude. And it has such a stranglehold on our societies that speaking about it like I do gets me labelled a misogynist.

Me, the foul misogynist, wanting the genders to be treated equally and given equal rights under law. Sounds like a horrid hater of women, no? Me, the foul misogynist, wishing for cooperation and balance to the discourse on gender. Imagine what paths we have been made to thread to make it so. Imagine how crooked these paths are, and with so many forks in the road being made necessary in order to justify labelling someone wanting equal treatment of the sexes as a hater of one sex and one sex only.

These talking points that feminism is only about equality, that it is not about hating men, need to be taken away. For they are simply not true. At the rotten heart of feminism lie the blatant hatred of men and of masculinity itself. Which is why I constantly bring up feminism. To get to the root of the rot within our societies, we need to examine feminism. And then we need to dismantle it, remove it from its positions of leadership and get this ridiculous neural imprint of ours that it is only about equality stripped away. To heal the hurt of our societies, we need to remove the rot. And we must bring balance to the discourse. Equal treatment of the genders is not a topic to be discussed by one voice and one voice only. In particular when that one voice has as its sole focus one gender and one gender only. How incredibly authoritarian, how fantastically totalitarian, how astonishingly arrogant, must one be to imagine to be the only set of ideas worth anything, and thus the only voice allowed to speak on behalf of gender? Feminism proves time and again that it knows jack shit about men. So why in the snoot-fuck should we allow them to speak on behalf of men? It is ridiculous, preposterous and ideological. And that is all it is.

I am frightfully aware of the fact that my writings tend to be bleak and hopeless, offering little in the way of solution; perhaps only offering some cathartic release. This is, more like than not, a product of my own bleak hopelessness and despair in regards to how the winds of our societies are blowing.

This despair and hopelessness goes contrary to what I actually wish to achieve with these writings.

I have no intention of staying lost in a pit of hopelessness and despair.

I have no wish to stay trapped within a cage of anger and rage either.

And I do not wish this for others.

The fact of the matter, though, and the pure realistic view of things makes it very easy to justify both feelings of hopelessness and of anger. And detaching from justified anger is as difficult as detaching from hopelessness when once it has settled within oneself.

This hopelessness leads to bleak outlooks, leads to checking out and not returning. And that is not good. Unless one turns it around. Turning ones back on society and becoming the archetypal rebel-character, living by his own rules, may well be a strength within itself; a fantastic picture of self-reliance and individual strength as much as it may be a picture of someone who society has cast aside. Own your self and own your shit.

The message sent to girls and women is a message that should also be sent to boys and to men; that they are strong and able and that one should aspire to live to the best of ones abilities. So why not send it to boys and men as well?

The sensation of hopelessness, the loss of direction, the loss of a sense of purpose and a sense of self all ties into, I think, the view of men as doers of things; as being what we do and defining ourselves from what we do, instead of what we are. Men as utilities, as disposable servants for the greater good (Cue Hot Fuzz – “the Greater Good”) of society. This is an archaic notion of men upheld as much by traditional values as by feminist dogma demanding men do for women – by which they mean, of course, feminism – even when claiming they don’t need no man. Again, I am reminded of He for She, which I think is one of the most insulting speeches I have ever heard. It is the view of men as protectors and providers, of caretakers and chivalrous knights saving the poor maiden wrapped up neatly and nicely in a new package; painting women as helpless victims and objects acted upon by evil men and in need of being saved by good men, even if the view is that all men are wicked and false at heart. Men are being told that we are not needed, by and large, whilst still being expected to rush to the aid of damsels in distress. We are not needed. Except when called upon to help women.

What we need to do is to consider ourselves as human beings first and foremost. To get to know our self. To define ourselves from what and who we are, not from what we do. To consider ourselves as our selves first, and what we do second, so that our humanity comes before our utility. In so doing, the need we feel to prove our usefulness comes second to the strength we have in our sense of self, our belief in our own strength and value as a human being. This, I think, will lessen the stranglehold of feminism in no small way, as there will be no men rushing to the forefront of the gender-war to prove themselves useful and thereby valuable. Because we have already become aware of our selves; we will already know that we have value in and off ourselves. Through this way of thinking, I think, it will all begin and it will all end – beginning with a whisper in the depths of the manosphere, and, given time, ending in a cacophony of vibrant, fantastic, rapturous and celebratory laughter vibrating fantastically throughout our societies.

– Moiret Allegiere, 09.03.2019

____________________________________________________________________________________________

Visit my blog:

https://moiretallegiere.wordpress.com/

Check out my youtubechannel:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC3IaCxAXE3pQd7PCdvHoaaA

Check out my bitchutechannel:

https://www.bitchute.com/channel/EvbGZyTZSraY/

Stalk me on social media (as long as it lasts):

twatter:

https://twitter.com/MAllegiere

Gab:

https://gab.ai/Moiret_Allegiere

Minds:

https://www.minds.com/Moiret

Flickr:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/152465815@N04/

Stubborn Potato-headed Hopelessness:

unknown soldier Lowres

Ill: «Unknown Soldier», A3, 2019, Moiret Allegiere

 

On this bleak and desolate Thursday in mid-February, I woke with a potato for a head and a stuffy nose, some three hours ago. The potato is still in bed and my hastily assembled IKEA-body is manspreading majestically beneath the grey and overcast skies of this weird morning; a morning still clinging to winter as if wishing spring should never come. Some semblance of spring is found in small sprouting plants eagerly, perhaps too eagerly, poking their heads out of the ground and out of my flowerpots in anticipation of better days of less bleakness and of far less potato-headed heaviness and despair.

There is a sense of incredible weight resting on my shoulders and festering in my chest; a sudden and sobering sensation of hopelessness in regards to the whole human experiment and experience. It seems as if never a day goes by without some new manufactured outrage or some new blatant hypocrisy from the seekers of “equality”, constantly reminding us that some animals are far more equal than others, and thusly should be treated as such by the laws of the land – extending ever more privileges to the unfortunate underprivileged undesirables residing in the underworld of our altruistic confusion.

It seems not a day goes by without some frenzied assault aimed at boys, men and masculinity, imploring us to be better human beings and treat others better than we currently do. For only men do bad. For the whole of a man is evil incarnate; toxicity coursing through our shared masculine bloodlines, inherited violence and sexual assault and most definitively hatred of women, though they fail to point out where and how and whom and when and so and such with any clarity. The hammer falls, the sentence is passed, and the definition of sexual assault becomes so muddled and confused as to be practically anything – whenever it is a man doing something. The same rules do not apply to women, of course.

Remember: drunken hookups where both man and woman are drunk means the man is a rapist and the woman is a victim of rape, though logic should dictate that they are both equally guilty of raping one another. Or, maybe both are engaging in consensual sex. Imagine that. Clearly; the feminist hive-mind of virtue and sanctity do not consider women to be as responsible for their own actions as they consider men to be. Men are considered, when drunk, to take responsibility for their own actions as well as the actions of drunk women, whereas drunk women are not considered able to take responsibility even for their own actions. I wonder if this extends to drunk driving as well? Would a woman be considered responsible were she to beat someone to death with a hammer in a fit of drunken madness? After all – drunkenness implies lack of responsibility for the actions of a woman. How far are they willing to take these randomly sowed seeds of logic? Seeds sown in the dirty end of winter. Frazzled, puzzled, poking out and dying where they are strewn.

Of course; the man in the drunken hookup being the rapist and the woman being raped, despite both being drunk can not possibly be anything but proof that male sexuality is viewed as predatory, as a destructive and simplistic primal force, devoid of emotion, compassion and a longing for bonding which clearly characterizes female sexuality; clean and holy and unspoiled as it is. She is seduced by him, and by his seduction she falls from grace. In the eyes of the orthodox; in the eyes of feminism. The female, being infused with the essence of childlike innocence, can not possibly be expected to respond responsibly to the pressures of the powerful male, being infused with the essence of the primeval, the kill-or-be-killed, subdue-or-be-subdued, the reptilian primacy burning at the tail-end of his barely awakened consciousness. He is the snake in the tree; his primitive mating call being also a challenging call to arms and cry of war: to command, to conquer and to dominate!

Societal double standards are at the root cause of the hopelessness festering in my chest in these bleak mornings; so blatantly obvious and yet unseen. They are hidden in plain sight by the very same double standards – a horrible beast hiding in its own shadow, devouring the world around it and at the same time claiming to build the world around it.

Starting with the assumption that all men have oppressed all women throughout all of history, floating misogynist-like and toxic endlessly down the river of time, due cause and reason is given to the constant hostility levied at boys and men and masculinity; the unholy trinity of the church of the Grand Dragon Patriarch. Stemming from this nonsensical assumption, original sin is born and the name of the sin sprung forth from the tree of knowledge and the trembling hips of feminism is “men”, is “manhood”, is “masculinity”. Bringing this notion into the limelight, into the forefront of our barely conscious mass-media for decades, the wickedness at the heart of men is the reason given for the full frontal assault of hostility and hatred aimed squarely at the hearts and minds of boys and men and masculinity itself. And within this society which, we are told, so openly and clearly hates women; within this society in which women are viewed as inferior and in which women are in constant danger from the wicked hearts and groins of men, all buckle down and do all they can to help, to protect, to give aid to women no matter the truth, the facts, the cold hard logic of the scenarios depicted by fear-mongering propagandists masked as seekers of equality and truth and justice.

In a society which hates women as much as the claim is, one would believe that feminism would not have a stranglehold on the discourse and on the piss-lined streets of our societies. One would assume that feminism would not be listened to and would not be allowed to spew their contempt, their vitriolic hatred and constant shame of boys and men and masculinity in a society which so openly and clearly hates women.

But, of course – reason and logic have no place here. This is ideology. This is a set of ideas painting men as eternal oppressors of the eternally oppressed, and women as eternally oppressed by the eternal oppressors. And the oppressed have all the right in the world to hate their oppressors. Yeah. It is nice and it is grand and it is glorious to have a ready-made and pre-assembled excuse to explain away ones own vibrant contempt, hatred and bigotry as anything but contempt, hatred and bigotry. “No, no, it is not about hating men, it is about equality. We only hate the oppressors. As is our right.” Well then – painting all men as oppressors will then give them the goddess-given right to hate all men whilst denying the hatred at the same time. Their collective tongue is forked and their fangs are venomous.

Do our bidding, men, say the feminist hive-mind. Do our bidding, for you hate us. Disregarding facts running counter to their arguments, they claim the world to be a place of immense hostility and danger to women. Even when men are more at danger in any-and-all situations, being the main victims of homelessness, drug-addiction, alcoholism, violent assaults, death at work, death from illness, suicide, murder and so forth and so on. This does not matter. This is of no concern to feminism and it is of no concern to society at large. The plight of men and the mental health of men is disregarded and ignored in this society in which women are hated and treated as second class citizens by the very forces that cater to every whim and flight of fancy which the feminist ideologues conjure forth from their ancient, dusty and decaying grimoires. Do our bidding, but do not dare to tell women what to do. Women are free to do as they chose, and any judgement passed is evidence of misogyny. Excepting when it is the feminist finger-pointers telling women what to do or not to do with their bodies and with their lives, of course. One rule for thee, another for me.

And so we get the Gillette-ads, the “where have all the good men gone” articles, the toxic masculinity, the APA-guidelines for dealing with men and boys, the thriving domestic violence industry painting domestic violence as the violence of men and only men against women and women only, despite recent studies finding near parity regarding genders and domestic violence, despite Erin Pizzey saying this since the seventies, despite facts and despite reason. Men are evil, women are innocent and men must be fixed, changed and altered to suit the needs of women; that is: feminism.

Men must do for women.

And women must do for women.

And no one need do jack shit for men.

Because men must be on their own and expend all their energy in helping and aiding women.

Because all men are bad, and the men that are good are even worse, since they don’t even know that they are – at heart – bad.

Damned if you do and damned if you don’t, and don’t you dare complain because then you are the exact reason why our societies need feminism. Circular logic. The lack of faith in God show us why we need the church. The lack of faith in feminism show us why we need feminism. And the lack of focus on the well being of boys and men is clear-cut evidence of why we need feminism, because focusing on boys and men for one single second is proof undoubtedly of a society in which women are hated and men are privileged and pampered.

Now, in this climate, why in the world would so many boys and men have this unyielding sense of absolute hopelessness and despair? Why – after being told to step down, to shut up, that our issues don’t matter none at all – should we feel as though there is no hope left? Why, after being told by teachers at school and by politicians and by manipulative mass-media and by friends and by family, that we are the cosmic iceberg floating through space sinking every ship that comes our way, should we feel a loss of hope and faith and love and glory? Why should we not turn our backs on society, drop out and drift away when we have been told for years uncounted that we are not only not needed, but that we are evil incarnate and that our very nature is wrong and faulty, that our masculinity is toxic and that femininity is the only force of nature that is good and pure, and that which all should strive for?

Gender is, after all, a social construct. Or so we are told. And since gender is a social construct, it goes without saying that the social construct of femininity, with its nurturing nature and calm manners, is the true root of our humanity. Even if that is also a social construct. Even if everything is a social construct, even the theory of social constructivism, should we adhere to this construct and this only. Everything is relative. Except this. All else is toxic. Except when that toxic masculinity is called forth to protect and provide for girls and women; he for she, you know. Everything is a social construct and is not to be trusted. Excepting this social construct, which is a more natural social construct than the other social constructs which are not natural social constructs.

Our societies considered it a good idea to throw boys and men under the bus over and over again, to drown us in a sea of phoney victim-tears and lay the blame and lay the faults of the world on our shoulders, claiming that we ruined everything and demanding that we fix everything at the same time. Being considered a force of evil by nature and simultaneously being the force tasked to fix it. Mixed messages of such contempt and of such ludicrous demands, forgetting or throwing away our humanity as well as our inherent goodness, is enough to bring the strongest of us into dumbfounded confusion, despair and absolute hopelessness.

Men, you are evil.

Men, you are not needed.

Men, you need to show that you are good.

Men, you are needed to fix this.

And this is, for some strange reason, something we put up with. This is, for some strange reason, something we bow our necks and fall to our knees for. This is the reality of the world of boys and men, and no one is able or willing to see it excepting those who have been scarred – often deeply – by these forces of so-called good, or those that are able to tear the veil from their eyes and view the world from a place of reason, wondering why in the world are we not treating the genders the same?

And the hopelessness accumulates and the hopelessness grows, festering in the soul and in the soil, and people try talking about it and are shouted down, disrupted and dispersed by the forces of perceived equality. The very forces that proclaim loudly their allegiance to equality deny the voices of those who wish to see the notion of equality from a vantage-point not shaded by ideology and not shaded by hatred and blame-games based on arbitrary characteristics, but based on facts and based on reason and based on evidence.

And the ideology of feminism permeates everything, growing in power ever stronger and becoming immortal, growing and spreading quicker than the malicious tumour growing on my sanity when facing down these abhorrent pieces of absolutely gendered hate, bigotry and contempt.

  • Moiret Allegiere, 23.02.2019

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

Visit my blog:

https://moiretallegiere.wordpress.com/

Check out my youtubechannel:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC3IaCxAXE3pQd7PCdvHoaaA

Check out my bitchutechannel:

https://www.bitchute.com/channel/EvbGZyTZSraY/

Stalk me on social media (as long as it lasts):

twatter:

https://twitter.com/MAllegiere

Gab:

https://gab.ai/Moiret_Allegiere

Minds:

https://www.minds.com/Moiret

Flickr:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/152465815@N04/