Do Not Adjust Your Set
Peter Gibbons: So I was sitting in my cubicle today, and I realized, ever since I started working, every single day of my life has been worse than the day before it. So that means that every single day that you see me, that’s on the worst day of my life.
~Office Space
Go to work. Be there by eight. Your contribution to the economy will be intangible, at best; your accomplishments are measured by spreadsheets, not products. Take your fifteen minute breaks, legislated. Go down to the food court for lunch, sterilized. Fear the sexual harassment complaint; tape your penis between your ass cheeks, if you must. Your supervisor is overweight, balding, and passive aggressive; treat him as a silver back. Hunker down and bow your head; your testosterone levels are dropping. Don’t discuss politics; don’t question the system. That might upset your coworkers. Smile. Get excited about the new project.
Your paycheque depends on it.
Get home, exhausted from nine hours of a low-level fight-or-flight response. Work out, maybe. Play video games; vicarious accomplishment. Suppress the self-loathing.
Watch the news, 30 second increments of information, disappearing down the memory hole. You are now informed. Listen to a round-table debate that lasts for 21 minutes; each person gets to talk for 5 minutes. You’re now very informed.
Television commercials don’t sell products anymore, they sell a reflection of yourself; an idealized mirror. On the TV you’re at a cool party, you’re driving in a cool car (down streets free of your usual rush-hour traffic): the you on the television is the real you, the you that you want other people to see.
The price of entry is switching detergent brands.
Buy a car. Buy a better car. Buy a house. Buy a bigger house. The mortgage ensures that you’ll return to work tomorrow. No work and no mortgage makes Jack confront the Abyss.
Download porn on the weekdays. Go out on Fridays and Saturdays. Do shots. Drink too much. Pretend you’re the person you wish you were. She’ll pretend that she’s the person she wishes she were. Both of you are cool and popular, and you can both pretend that one another is whomever you want them to be. It’s okay.
Take her home. Rub genitals like a pair of scissoring lesbians. Orgasm; sleep.
You can’t be a husband; you’re too emasculated from the office. You need to pay off your Mazda 3. She can’t be a wife; she’s too empowered. She needs to pay for her $500 purses.
Participate in the political process. Your vote matters. This election matters. You’re informed.
Lobbyists and vested interests ensured that the candidates were indistinguishable years ago.
Move in with her. Get married. Have a child. Hire a nanny. Get divorced.
Buy a newer car. You’re satisfied for a week. Then you’re not satisfied.
Did you really satisfy the desire for a new car? Or did you just temporarily satisfy the desire to be satisfied?
Don’t ask that question. Watch commercials.
Jim Kroll said “ of manipulative mechanics, without the catharsis and revelation of real art.” Jim Kroll is an idiot; it’s the modern world which is full of manipulative mechanics, without true catharsis.
You are living in a perfect Skinner Box: hit the button, get the Soma. You have objectified yourself; you are a piece of corporate furniture. Credit is your true God, and Office Parties your only community.
Two-hundred years ago, the Industrial Revolution transformed the work day; from the circadian rhythm, to the cycle of the machine. Over the past fifty years, the social sciences have transformed all of society into a genetically-engineered organism, feeding on soylent green, and excreting useful fluids.
Wake up.
Tyler Durden: In the world I see – you are stalking elk through the damp canyon forests around the ruins of Rockefeller Center. You’ll wear leather clothes that will last you the rest of your life. You’ll climb the wrist-thick kudzu vines that wrap the Sears Tower. And when you look down, you’ll see tiny figures pounding corn, laying strips of venison on the empty car pool lane of some abandoned superhighway.
~ Fight Club
Need to turn this into a song. Like a red pill Randy Newman
This is your mode…Excellent.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/08/20/hijab-outcry-sweden_n_3785356.html?utm_hp_ref=religion
…turns out they call it “Stockholm Syndrome” for a reason.
So I’m not crazy per se. Comforting and disturbing confirmation, Aurini. As far as Stockholm Syndrone, it’s as Brevik put in his video manifesto, that boys will go for the strong horse rather than the weak horse, but it applies to women and girls probably more so. And if a weak horse guy attacked a pregnant woman of the strong horse (relatively speaking among pawns ov da Nu Vurld Odor), the weak horse guys are correctly identified by the female imperative. Not a brilliant strategy. Rob Fedders is right, at least about Western society right now, that women ARE the society. It need not be so, and cannot if things are going well, IMHO. There is value to the principle go big or go home. I’m going home and hoping for a disorderly collapse that will create a void I can take for my own from relatively weak horses and women. Bros before hoes, for that very purpose: civilization. You will notice the bros of da Odor stick together, and will do so until they utterly win or utterly lose.
Wasn’t Breivik a Zionist, doug?
We’ve been led through the mud for so long, we think its our own shit. Or at least you, NFL “fan”
The problem for me with the whole anarcho-fascist thing is most men will end up being Robert Paulsons, not Tyler Durdens.
I’m willing to sacrifice a little bit of my natural masculinity for the benefits accrued of living in a civilization.
Basically, I’m shooting for Patriarchy 2.0, without having to tear everything down.
Ed: If there was one failing with that movie, it was the short-shrift it gave the space monkeys (narratively justified though it might be). IRL, being a space monkey – a beta male – shouldn’t be cultish suicide. I’ll see if I can write a post about this.
Heavy shit. I’m infinitely thankful for being unplugged; now I just need an out of this First World, cookie-cutter hellhole.
This is a masterpiece.
Yeah, things were way better for everyone before the industrial revolution.
I hate to tell you this, but life has always sucked for just about everybody. The only thing that changes is the way in which it sucks and for who. This is the cycle of death and rebirth, and there’s only one way out (hint: it isn’t suicide).
The Fight Club reference reminds me of this article on Radish: https://radishmag.wordpress.com/tag/jack-donovan/
Shit, that was great. This would be a great short film. You really hit the soul-sucking feeling and progressive worsening right on the head.
I just found this site through viva la manosphere and started reading your posts. I wish I knew about this site earlier, this guy is good.
Bigger cubicles.
longer weekends
“Credit is your true God, and Office Parties your only community.” Sad, somewhat funny, but unfortunately true for many of our contemporaries.