Before I begin this article, I should anticipate my critics, who hang on my every word, and always draw the most ridiculous conclusions from whatever I write.
I think everyone should take the present situation very seriously. If you can stay home safely and look after your family right now, you should do so. If there are temporary legal restrictions on your movement, you should respect them. This is especially true for those of you, brothers and sisters, who have little children or elderly relatives in your care. If you, or some member of your family falls ill, then you should seek out competent medical care, and know that your brothers are constantly thinking of you , praying for you, and hoping for the health and safety of those who may be afflicted.
Presently I am laughing at the hysterical ninnies running around on social media, desperately trying to convince us that we will all be dead in a matter of days, and blaming all manner of different agents for starting what has come to be known as the COVID-19 pandemic. I find these shenanigans more depressing than entertaining, and while I think I understand the fear people feel, I am forced to tell all my readers why this blog will not become an outpost for the blackpill.
The fact that people are acting so irrationally, over an illness that has a mortality rate of less than one percent, clues the average observer into a couple of things. In the first place, most people have come to maturity without any exposure to hardship. These same people are hopelessly weak, in a psychological sense. When you are raised in the sociological equivalent of a pink and purple playpen, in which the most grievous harm is considered to be the calling of someone else a nasty name, then you become an adult infant. This is (arguably) a far more serious and widespread problem than any virus currently circulating.
Secondly, most people are, only now, coming to realize that they have nothing to do that doesn’t involve working at a wage-slave job, chasing rancid skank cunt at the nightclub, and drinking themselves into a stupor. The average American has no productive hobbies or interests, he doesn’t truly love anyone, and no one loves him, either. The coming weeks will be a healthy dose of reality for most of these people, but I expect some of them to go insane.
Only three months ago, I would never have imagined a time when the government would encourage people to quit working so many hours, quit consuming frivolous commodities, and spend more time with their families. People are acting as though this is some sort of burden, and I am endlessly amused at their whining. I have a paid, six-week vacation, during which I can become more fit, better read, more competent. You have a vacation too. If you’re crying and moaning about it, I don’t know what to tell you.
I am also forced to wonder what would happen if this had been a serious pandemic. Off the top of my head, I can think of a number of different scenarios that would be as calamitous as this one is pretended to be.
- A drug resistant form of plague, which has a mortality rate of 50%.
- A genetically modified form of smallpox, which has a mortality rate of 40%
- A mutant form of wheat rust, which would leave human and animal life perfectly healthy, but which would wipe the world’s food supply out in a matter of weeks.
That last bullet point is arguably the most frightening to think about. Can you imagine the way these morbidly obese nutters in North America would behave, once they lost access to their EBT funded tendies at Wal-Mart?
What if vegetables and wild game were all that were on offer? Truly, we’d face a situation which could best be analogized in one of those 1990s Hollywood zombie films.
Tomorrow, I may drop dead from COVID-19. Tomorrow, I may be killed when I space out and step into traffic. Tomorrow, I may be murdered by a crackhead. Tomorrow, I may be electrocuted in a freak accident involving high-tension power-lines. In an hour, I’m going for a run through my neighborhood. I’m on the border of fatass territory. If I don’t die of a heart attack on my run, I may slip in the shower, and drown after.
If I don’t die this week, it’s a certainty that I will die someday. This was always so, and it will always be so. We are born astride the grave, brothers. Too much comfort has artificially allowed too many of us to forget this simple fact. Until I die, I am going to live my life on my own terms. I am going to keep calling my family members and reminding them that I love them. I am going to keep writing. I am going to keep thinking. I am going to stay alive.
Some of us might get sick in the coming weeks, and some of us might see people pass away. What I hope that none of the rest of you will succumb to, is the sort of endemic hopelessness that is the result of listening to the blackpillers on the internet. Men ought to be careful with their lives, but men don’t cower in the corner, afraid of living.