Drunk On Liberal Tears: Long Overdue Post-Election Gloating

“First they ignore you. Then they laugh at you. Then they fight you. Then you win.”-Mahatma Gandhi

Two weeks have passed since the election of Donald Trump, and I’m still drunk on your liberal tears.

I worked the copy desk in the newsroom that night. Elections always mean overtime for the editorial department. I was all but resigned to the fate of yet another liberal, Democratic president. All the national polls — Huffington Post, The Guardian, MSNBC, NPR, USA Today — predicted a massive landslide for Hillary Clinton. There was no apparent chance that Trump would win at all, and that’s exactly what the political establishment wanted me to believe. Resignation, defeatism, humility.

My only sliver of hope came from a study I read earlier in the day — the only poll to accurately predict the Brexit vote was also the only poll that was predicting an election win for Trump.

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Why I Quit Masturbation

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I discovered masturbation when I was 14 years old. I am now 25. I have never had sex, and recently I have made an oath that I will not release another drop of semen unless it is within the vaginal walls of a woman. So far, it has been more than one week since this writing, and I am successful.

Before this pledge, I would ejaculate anywhere from once or twice, maybe three times a week. Thousands of times have I spent my seed upon the bed sheets, followed by a dull sense of hopelessness and shame. But no more.

Fortunately, pornography was never an intense addiction. I merely viewed pornography for several minutes, or I spent an hour once a week just searching through hundreds of Google pages for the perfect video to stimulate my senses. My choice sexual positions and acts were also relatively narrow and conventional. Two girls, one cup? Spare me, please.

No, my poison of choice was online dating. I’ve deleted all of the dating and hook-up apps on my smartphone. They yielded nothing but false hopes, embarrassing dates and painful rejections. I think that online dating is its own unique form of masturbation. As costly to one’s time, energy and money as a gambling addiction.PornTube is child’s play compared to the playground of real, living women waiting on POF or OKCupid.

This is by no means the first attempt I have made to cease masturbation. I have been trying to stop ever since I was first hooked. As a grown man, masturbation has become more of a tedious habit that I’ve taken for granted rather than the addicting high. At first I believed such a state was progress being made, but it is regression — the final stage of utter defeatism and apathy. Not just in my sex life, but everything else, too.

At the behest of a friend who is much farther along the Path to Purity than I — more than two years — I will attempt once more to break free. This time, I will devote myself to a written chronicle of my progress toward perfect celibacy, a brain free from the chains of the Orgasm. This time, a great cloud of witnesses will be watching me.

I gravely regret that I have remained in the adolescent stage of masturbation for this long. I feel deeply insecure for falling so far behind, while all other men in the world are romantically bound and filling their happy wives with their seed. What better time to start, than now?

By forgoing fappery, it will hone my emotional and psychological energy. When I am not distracted by the singing siren of sex, I want my narrative voice to sharpen, my creative flare to spark. My writing will be better, the more that I stew in the agitation of this lonely reality — not constantly retreating back into the harem of my sexual imagination. I will be committing myself to an act known as Sex Transmutation — the practice of channeling one’s sexual energies from the lowly physical to the higher intellectual and emotional parts of one’s being.

Napoleon Hill, in his book “Think, And Grow Rich” elaborates upon the profound mystery of sex transmutation in the eleventh chapter:

“When driven by this desire, men develop keenness of imagination, courage, will-power, persistence, and creative ability unknown to them at other times. So strong and impelling is the desire for sexual contact that men freely run the risk of life and reputation to indulge it. When harnessed, and redirected along other lines, this motivating force maintains all of its attributes of keenness of imagination, courage, etc., which may be used as powerful creative forces in literature, art, or in any other profession or calling, including, of course, the accumulation of riches (“Think and Grow Rich,” Napoleon Hill, pg. 261).

I believe that, by blocking the faucet of masculinity, it will stream back into his being, grow into a bright critical mass, a “superpower” of sorts. But this trial will be an utter waste if I cannot actually liberate myself from my sexual desire. It will amount to little more than secretive masochism unless I can commit my energy and focus from useless sex to a purposeful, revolutionary mission. Instead of messaging silent women online for hours, I will read a book. Instead of getting off to pornography for twenty minutes, that will be more time I spend writing. My chances of finding a partner only decrease from minimal to absolute zero.

The power and strength of one’s masculinity is spent when he releases his seed. In that respect, we men are like the praying mantis or the spider — after he has mated with the female, his biological function is complete and is useless save as food for the female. But if the male mantis can withstand his natural urge and forsake the female, she will never eat him, and she will starve. But the man remains immortal!

“Fortunate, indeed, is the person who has discovered how to give sex emotion an outlet through some form of creative effort, for he has, by that discovery, lifted himself to the status of a genius.

Is it hyperbolic to wish that I will, by defeating the sexual urge once and for all, ascend to the level of a genius? I believe it is possible, and I will find out soon enough.

Follow me, and you will, too.


Reference:

http://www.sacred-texts.com/nth/tgr/tgr16.htm “The Mystery of Sex Transmutation” Napoleon Hill

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The Feminine Soul: Confessions of a 20-Something Loser

 

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This is a guest post. It is not my original work. The author will remain anonymous for the sake of confidentiality.


I was never like other boys my age when I was growing up. Whereas they were always
roughhousing and playing around in the dirt, playing sports and other competitions of physical strength, I was the weird, sensitive kid, who was drawing pictures or playing the piano or setting up armies of Lego men in the grass to write stories about. Without a doubt, I stood out, not for my inability to be social, but for my striking contrast in how I socialized.

This difference continued until about 14, when the pressures of adolescence and
hormones took over my life. The nature of the game changed, and it changed in a big way.

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Why I’m Voting For Donald Trump

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TRIGGER WARNING: This article contains facts, evidence and the truth about presidential candidate Donald Trump and why you should vote for him. It contents have a 100% chance of causing reality shock in those thoroughly steeped in left-wing media. If you are not prepared to have your beliefs challenged, please evacuate to the nearest safe space. Common sense is advised.


“I can never apologize for the truth. I don’t mind apologizing for things. But I can’t apologize for the truth.” –Donald Trump

I embarked on the Odyssey Online as a writer knowing full well that the vast majority of its content caters to the tastes of the left-leaning, college educated, 20-something-ish, social-justice-advocate type reader. As a radical anti-feminist, racial realist and proponent of free market anarchy, I wanted to challenge this status quo with a conservative counter culture. I knew my content would be shunned, or outright attacked, but I’ve never been satisfied preaching to the choir.

That said, I’m coming out of the conservative closet. It’s a day before the election, and I’m finally saying it — I’m going to vote for Donald Trump.

According to a join study conducted by UMass Lowell and Odyssey: “By a 3-1 margin, Millennials who are likely voters prefer Democrat Hillary Clinton to Republican Donald Trump … 66 percent to 22 percent with 12 percent undecided.”

Today, I will change that. Here are all the reasons why you should put on your big-girl panties and vote for Trump:

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Random Thoughts About God and Kidney Stones

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Photo: Live Science

“Shall the one who contends with the Almighty correct Him?
“He who rebukes God, let him answer it.”
The Book of Job 40:1-2

Several days ago, my father nearly died.

For the past six weeks, he was suffering from severe flu-like symptoms. But the Glasiers are a stubborn clan, and we are skeptical of the services of doctors. We’d rather blame a midlife crisis or our own psychological weakness for the onset of nonstop vomiting and crippling back pains, apparently. Get tough. Move on. That’s the Glasier way.

That motto sent my dad into the hospital barely conscious and with stage 4 kidney failure, kidney stones, E. Coli, sepsis, pneumonia — it was as if God tied a blindfold and randomly pointed to half the illnesses in his great big, black book of diseases.

In speaking of God, I am still an atheist. I don’t spend as much time thinking and writing about God as much as I do Libertarianism and debunking Feminism. I prefer to focus on things that exist.

Among the condolences and encouragements I received from friends, family and co-workers, most said they would pray for me. Especially my mother. I found this peculiar, because she knows that I became an atheist more than a year ago. Why? The only answer God ever provides is that He is the creator, and therefore has full right to do as He pleases. This answer is not only immoral, it is offensive and disgusting.

“Prayers, please.”
“Prayers appreciated.”
“Keeping praying.”

Thus did she conclude our litany of text messages. I finally reminded her that I don’t actually pray. “Then send positive vibes,” she said.

The day my mother informed me that dad’s kidneys might never recover was the worst day in the past three years of my life. It was that time of ultimate dread and of almost certain doom. I called off work and rushed to the hospital. I was poised in helpless suspense. I could only wait to see what the doctors would say.

In film scripts, they call this part of the story, “The Dark Night of the Soul.” The protagonist faces his greatest challenge, reaches the bleakest stretch of the valley, comes to the darkest hour. In religious texts, this is when the sinner at last repents, he upturns his face to the light of God. He cries out to God for help, and finally, now that his will no longer binds back the power of God, God pours out his blessing and grants his wish.

Or He doesn’t. But then, theists provide plenty of convenient explanations for when that happens.

The very reason for this trial — my father’s illness — was to break me, destroy my sinful pride and bring me into submission to the Lord. Or so I would have believed five years ago.

I did not repent. To this day, I remain a rebel against the divine.

There were many moments when, out of an impulse ingrained into me since my early childhood, I was going to break down and pray. It was really tempting. It would demonstrate psychosis more than any concrete conviction. The act would have almost been comforting, were I not aware of the utter futility of groveling to a non-existent being to shape reality according to my desperate whims.

I did not turn back to God.

Or I could have focused on emitting “positive vibrations” in the direction of my father and family. Would that have had any effect, either? Of course not. But, as humans, we are desperate for control in a gigantic universe that does not acknowledge even our existence. That’s why I’ve stopped arguing.

A healthy human being must accept the true nature of the universe — it’s blindness, it’s dumbness, it’s utter disregard for the human will. From one man’s kidney stone to the Communist purges and forced labor that slaughtered tens of millions of people, no human catastrophe will cause the universe to alter its course by a single atom. Time will march on. Gravity will pull. The stars will go out. History will end.

Most people cannot reconcile with a numb reality, and so turn to organized religion or rudimentary mysticism for comfort. Whether I prayed or did not pray, whether I wanted my father alive or dead, would make no difference. We got him into the emergency room on time, there were doctors who were paid by the market and not by the government, and that’s what saved him. Not a miracle.

I could feel discouraged that my personal feelings are basically useless in the grand scheme of things, or I could feel grateful that my worst enemies can’t simply “will” negative vibrations in order to make something awful happen to me or those I love.

The fact that my father is alive and is on the way to a full recovery does not bring me a single bit closer to believing in the existence of a deity. Why should it? Although I feel grateful, I do not know to whom or what to project this feeling, nor do I feel that such projection is necessary. Certainly, if there is a God, I would not thank him for sparing my father. I would curse him for creating the kidney stone in the first place. Such a God must not be worshiped, but ignored and avoided.

My reasons for not believing in God are logical; if God wished to persuade me of His existence, he would appeal to my rationality with an argument. My reasons are not emotional, though they do manifest in the form of hatred, confusion and hilarity of a God who would torture his creation with these tests of faith instead of reasoning with them. But I don’t waste time about it; I’ll spend it looking forward to the many more years I will be glad to have with my Dad after he has fully recovered.

After all, how can you hate something that doesn’t exist?

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Odyssey’s Political Poll Shows Millennials Are Over-Educated Idiots

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The survey, conducted by the Odyssey and UMass Lowell, confirms that Millennials are widely irrational and driven by emotions, rather than pragmatism.


We commonly hold to the idea that conservatives are stupid, backwoods-dwelling, incest-bred, bigoted, racist, sexist neo-Luddites, while Liberals are cultured, erudite, pedantic and open-minded scholars. Libertarians? They’re just crazy.

Truth is, liberals are really, really stupid.

A new poll taken by Odyssey proves it. The survey covered more than 1,400 people within the ages of 18-35, AKA “the Millennials.” Millennials as a demographic group make up 26.2 percent of the United States population, or 82 million people. According to the Educational Test Service, “This generation of American workers and citizens will largely determine the shape of the American economic and social landscape of the future.” If one thing is for sure, it’s that this generation is super-duper liberal.

Oh snap.

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How The Discrimination Against Short Men Is Perpetuated By Women

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Photo: NY Post, Shuttershock

I’ve had so many conversations with girls that go something like this:

“Get real! Guys have it SO-O-O easy. They don’t have to spend two hours in front of the mirror putting on make up, just to be considered sexually attractive. Why do you have to judge us based on the way a girl looks? Why do you want us only for SEX? I’m more than just my body!”

So it would seem that women once again find a new way to set themselves as the victim class, thus earn the precious pity that purchases for them their power. Feminism seeks to absolve women of the act of sexual objectification and retain women as the pure, righteous judges of a man’s character rather than base animal lust. It is the popular notion that, while a man will fall for the woman with the best body, women will fall for the man who treats them the best — a nice guy, her best friend, someone who drapes his coat over every puddle so she can walk without getting her feet wet.

HA.

Oh. That’s a good one.

Women are just as capable — perhaps even more so — of objectifying men.

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