Upon the highest hill in the land of my fathers was a burning bush and it spake unto me in a resonant voice saying, “Seek ye my kinsman, the burning platform, and go hither unto the men that dwell upon it and bring this knowledge unto them, for thou shalt betray thy sex that these men shall know of the three sacred tenets needful for them to be saved from all peril in the pursuit of pussy.”

And I said, “Okay.”

1. Women want to please men, but modern media keeps telling them they shouldn’t want to please anyone but themselves, and most modern women are addicted to modern media.

2. Women are angry because they suspect (and cannot afford to admit) that it’s a man’s world and that most of their power still and always will derive from pleasing men.

3. Women Still Think Like Slaves. This is why:



• For the past five millennia 49.76% percent of Earthlings were considered to be the legal property of their father or male head of the household. Ultimately, they married for a negotiated price and became the legally transferred property of their husbands.

• Up until the final few decades of the 20th century, it was the husband’s right to force his wife into sexual intercourse. There was no legal recourse available to the female—it wasn’t recognised as a crime.

• One hundred years ago, a woman defying her spouse or father could be legally beaten to within an inch of her life, committed to a madhouse or imprisoned in a convent.

• One hundred years ago, failure to conceive a child in wedlock was grounds for divorce with no guarantee of financial settlement.

• Miscarriage or deformity in a newborn was universally assumed to be the entire fault of the woman and the consequence of sin or character flaw on her part.

• One hundred years ago, women had no vote.

• Historically, every time a woman reclined for any reason other than sleep, she risked death: of reputation, from sexually-transmitted disease, or from complications in childbirth or infection afterwards.

• The only employment options open to an unmarried woman were servant or prostitute; post-Industrial Revolution, you could add mill worker to the list.

• If a woman found herself in charge of un-entailed property and income (having outlived every possible male inheritor), and if beyond childbearing age and thus undesirable as a wife, and lacking the protection of a noble title in her own right, then she would find herself vulnerable to any male willing to publicly declare her incompetent, mad, or a witch. She would be stripped of all assets, with the spoils being divided between those who had orchestrated her downfall who might then dispose of her by locking her away, turning her out on the road to starve or burning her at the stake.

No one can shed millennia of cultural conditioning in just a generation or two, and like any group of former slaves most modern women haven’t exercised real agency long enough to learn to cope in positions of power with any reliable degree of responsibility or grace.

Women tend to operate underhandedly, from the shadows, behind other people’s backs, excelling in the tactics and strategies of emotional guerrilla warfare. They have the long memory of slaves and can nurture a grudge that will be passed down for generations.

Traditionally, unhappy women set up a non-stop, low-level drone of discontent interspersed with episodes of harpy-like fury. This tendency is the hallmark of any human convinced at a molecular level of their own powerlessness. Like toddlers. And liberals.

Young women tend to employ honey rather than vinegar to get their way, until the day they discover their sweetness has no more allure. They appear fun and free for a while, but Time lurks like a spectre in the doorway, tapping his foot and checking his watch, and the pressure to cultivate and secure economic and emotional payback rises with every sexual transaction young women undertake.

Women of a certain age and predilection may pounce, devour and move on with the insouciance of a libertine, but it’s an act—I assure you, it’s always an act. Modern women’s minds have been pounded, poured and vacu-formed by the liberal entertainment cartel to believe that being a floozy is not only their right, but their sacred obligation, to show the world… to show the world… something something empowerment something…

These woman are emotional ticking time bombs. What makes older women particularly dangerous is that they have experience combined with a backlog of rage sufficient to slash and burn a man’s entire life to the ground, and the frequency and severity of payback meted out by angry women rises with time and notches on the headboard. Most are jaded party girls or bitter divorcées with a lifetime’s worth of transacting sex for attention and increasingly coming up short-changed. They begin to confuse bullying with being strong; caustic insults with wit; narcissism with self-esteem, fascist policing of others’ behaviour with being a good citizen and the current classic, blaming Straight Western Anglo-Saxon Males for everything they don’t like.

For every modern woman wandering the perceived wasteland of her fourth or fifth decade it begins like this: one day she wakes up and decides to go shopping. The man behind the cash register seems distracted as he absentmindedly completes the transaction and it suddenly occurs to her that it’s because he’s continually glancing at the younger, radiantly lovely woman in line behind her. Or, after a lifetime of men offering to carry that heavy parcel to the car, the day comes when they stop and they never do it again, unless it’s their job and they are tipped handsomely afterward. These women can run to the surgeon but they cannot hide from the creeping epiphany that most men aren’t very nice to women they don’t desire.

It’s enough to make a woman throw every chip she’s got on the gaming table, then burn down the casino when she realises she’ll never hold a winning hand again.

Historically, the cost of procreation included risking an agonising death during childbirth, expiring afterwards from infection, or being abandoned and cast out to die in either the poorhouse, the whorehouse or the asylum. Nowadays, the first two dangers are alleviated by modern medicine; the latter, by socialism.

Women are now able to spawn with impunity, yielding an army of feral dole babies who grow up to… spawn with impunity. And vote to continue the gravy train that foots the bill. In most of the United Kingdom having six kids from as many fathers is seen as a career move, and all with the full and rancid support of liberal policies. This is a running scam on borrowed time and any moment now the patched and mended safety net of social services will snap from the strain. In procreation, these women have become a force for destruction.

Modern women now insist upon total risk-free acquisitiveness as their right. This is why nearly every sexual encounter Straight Western Men undertake is accompanied by either a demand for emotional security or material recompense; material doesn’t necessarily mean cash—young women will happily settle for swiping your shirts as a trophy.

Like any slave, most women can still be had for the right price; their overriding concern after a certain age is landing the richest and most powerful master, preferably within the bonds of matrimony, then sealing the deal by conceiving as soon as possible.

The current generation of females lacking loving fathers or other healthy male influences are most likely lost, and we have to let them go. But there is good news: human nature always prevails.

Compared to collectivist ideologies, (which history has shown requires repeated applications of an iron-toed boot to the face in order to maintain) capitalism is a much better fit with human nature and is why the most vibrant part of the moribund communist regime of Soviet Russia was the black market. In much the same way, human nature dictates that every upcoming generation rebels in an attempt to form a personality distinct from their spawners. It’s as reliable as a patellar reflex, virtually every kid goes and does the polar opposite of whatever they’ve been taught; or at least the healthy ones do. From sea to shining sea, the joyous refrain will someday ring out: Take off the pussy hat, Mom, it’s embarrassing.

But until that day what does a Western man do when faced with a modern woman? You can’t come on too strong, can’t come on too tender, you are weary of being belittled and blamed, can’t fight the system that seeks out and exploits every low female impulse for commercial gain—it’s too vast, too entrenched, and most modern women haven’t been free long enough to even recognise there’s a Matrix to unplug from.

We’ve arrived at this sorry pass after half a century of increasingly onerous legislation all in order to avoid upsetting The Lay-deez. Look around, does anyone over the age of two look happy to you?

For the time being, forget about pleasing women. It will never work. Instead,

Be a Man.

It was a good evening. You laughed, you drank, you flirted, she smelled amazing. You end up at her place.

Her kiss makes the world go out-of-focus. She is the very definition of curves and angles and softness, with pliant, satiny skin taut over the toned muscles of a dancer. Full breasts in a lace bra—it’s like perusing a dessert tray.

Your lips chart the arcane geometry of the place where her neck meets her shoulders, and you feel her pulse jumping under your tongue. You are both moving towards the bed, dropping clothing as you go. She lies back and as you follow her down she places both hands on your chest, applies a little pressure and says,

“Stop.”

The moment she says that word, a Man will stop. Then, a Man will stand up, collect his clothes, shoes and keys, and leave. On the way out the door, a Man will flash his most winning smile and say, “Nobody has to tell me twice, darlin’.”

And then, A Man Will Never Come Back. She gets one shot at you—that’s it.



If she pulls this lever you need to be out the door and on your way like your ass is on fire, yet at peace in the knowledge that you just dodged a 50 caliber round.

Why so final? Why so cold? Picture this: hearts are pounding, breasts are bouncing, sap is rising and she says, stop— she’s either conflicted or she was only trolling for flattery the whole time.

Straight Men of the West, this may be difficult for you to hear but it could be that the entire evening was one long con. Sorry. You’re not the first in history to fall for it and you won’t be the last. Whenever any woman pulls this she is one of two things: uncertain of what she wants or working an agenda. Either way, she is not to be trusted—she has the problem and you need to leave.

The only power she has is that stop. Your power is allowing her to stand by that command and eventually, hopefully, someday regret saying anything she kinda-sorta-maybe doesn’t mean ever again.

But you have an erection, and you think you could still tip the balance in your favour. It’s worked in the past, right? You’re persuasive—maybe you are just the man to convince her. You could beg. Or sweet-talk her. You could do that sexy thing you practiced in the mirror. Or make her laugh. You could try a hundred different things and you might actually close escrow, but once it’s done and heart rates slow there’s going to be a sinister shift in mood.

Ever heard of buyer’s remorse? If you have to convince a woman to engage in coitus it is no longer an act of pleasure mutually desired by two adults, it’s a transaction. She will either demand emotional payment from you in the form of your continued interest for the foreseeable future, or she’s going to extract revenge. This revenge could run the gamut from the mosquito-like buzz of invasive questions all the way to a court date and possible conviction. If you’re determined to contract a transaction then engage the services of a professional and pay with legal tender. In the long run it’s cleaner, and more honest.

No man should ever settle for less than a woman who knows exactly what she wants and gives enthusiastic consent throughout the entirety of the encounter, though even this is not without risk. But perhaps this woman is someone you’ve lusted after for a while or someone—for whatever reason—you’re apt to trust. If you’re willing to give her the benefit of the doubt or if you are unsure about the nature of the stop, ask her.

If she demurs, prevaricates, takes longer than .07 seconds to produce a credible explanation, get out. Best case scenario, she’s playing you like a chew toy. Worst case, she’s capable of anything, including throwing accusations that may ruin the rest of your life.

Leave—just go, and take consolation in the fact that she will never forget the one who got away. Your power lies in staying away.

You’re out the door and on the way home. You have just passed one of the most difficult tests of your life: completely reversing course and walking away when your penis is erect.

After years of being played, some men snap. They lash out, they commit sexual assault, they give vent to the thunderhead of anger years of rejection and game-playing has built up. You didn’t. You walked. You win.

Women only have two fantasies: taming the uncontrollable beast and being wooed by multiple men.

Uncontrollable Beasts Include Mr Darcy, Rhett Butler, Edward Cullen, Christian Grey, Sheik Ahmed Ben Hassan, Hannibal Lector, Mr Rochester, Superman, Spiderman, Tarzan, The Phantom of the Opera and The Beast in Beauty and the Beast. Modern women have almost completely ruined Western Men with the blunt instrument of legally-sanctioned feminism so now they have to go further afield and import low IQ feral males from dusty third-world shitholes to get the thrill of the beast.

Multiple Men After One Woman Include Buffy, Spike & Angel on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Bella, Edward and that dog boy, can’t be bothered to look it up, in Twilight. Stefan, Damon and Elena on The Vampire Diaries. Claire, Jamie and Frank in Outlander. The same theme again and again. Sookie, Bill and Eric on True Blood. Katniss, Peeta and Gale in The Hunger Games. Guinevere, Arthur, Lancelot…

Though women yearn to be pursued and possessed by the remote, unattainable romantic hero, modern media and advertising persuades them that they must, by law, be ‘equal’ with men in all things. The resulting cognitive dissonance serves to make pharmaceutical companies rich as sales of mood stabilizing and desensitizing drugs skyrocket. Capitalism doesn’t care—women can spend their money on Poldark or Prozac, it’s a win for some corporation either way.

I remain unconvinced that women have evolved to the point of making good policy decisions beyond the sphere of home, immediate family and cottage industry. The risk-free acquisitiveness endemic to all females bodes ill for the long-term stability of any Western culture wherever women are installed in positions of political influence.

I urge you to take a look at the number of childless females currently occupying the highest seats of political power and ask yourself how they are able to profess beyond empty rhetoric a dedication to the welfare of future generations.

These women believe they are justified in calling the shots that place men in combat abroad despite never taking up arms to defend country, commonwealth or kingdom themselves. In some strange perversion of compassion these women also support policies allowing invaders to stream in domestically, debasing the currency of citizenship, destroying the notion of nationhood, and placing all our lives in the line of fire (or the blast radius) for generations to come.

Darkness is rising, Ragnarøkkr is fast upon us, and monsters—right after picking up their dole cheque—are loosed upon the earth. At the rate female policy makers and their enablers are importing actual beasts determined to put women right back into into slavery nothing will ever be good or fun, joyous or free, silly or happy or truly loving again.

Men of the West, women need and desire dominant men in their lives—stop the presses, right? If it’s not you, it’s going to be a howling mob of 7th century cavemen.

I choose you.

It’s like dancing in a minefield having anything to do with females who still think like slaves. Like Dementors, government-sanctioned feminism nourished by the poisoned apple of socialism has sucked most of the joy from life. This will change, though probably not for the better until some fundamental—possibly catastrophic—shift occurs.

My Men of the West, it is once again up to you to save the world. Namely, by not being ashamed of who you are, by not allowing anyone to destroy your pride, by no longer trying so hard to please women, and by avoiding every snare set by The Evil Fuckers in Charge to trap and claim your Soul.

It is Anglo-Saxon Western Men who have built empires, won wars, cleared fields and roads, built cabins and cathedrals, envisioned the atom, rescued women from burning buildings, protected their families, painted the great works of art, captured and tamed electricity, written the timeless works of literature, directed films that changed for the better the way we see ourselves, and perfected indoor plumbing, refrigeration and general anaesthesia—arguably the three greatest improvements of the past hundred years. This is still, and always has been, a man’s world. The solution is determining that you are going to reclaim your place in it no matter what any woman or currently installed political system might say.

I’m calling for a revolution, and unlike any that came before this one must begin from within, because I don’t think the problems we face are going to be solved by politics.

This essay is dedicated to Reg Bannister, loving father