Down in the mosh pit, ys asks a question about the Dalrock blog. I hesitate to make another blog the focus of this one, but I think there are a number of important lessons in a general survey of what I’ve seen transpire over the last decade.

Boxer, you seem to have been reading him from nearly the beginning. In your estimation, when did he take off or become popular? Was it a post or two, or was it just a slow build over time?

About fifteen years ago, I was having a difficult time with a girl named Elise. I was fucking Elise, was largely monogamous, and I had convinced myself that Elise was “the one.” My background was sadly typical. I had grown up the child of divorced parents, and had convinced myself not only that a successful marriage was possible, but that I was the one man I knew, in current year, who would find one. At the time of my girlfriend hassles, I was working my way through a very rigorous graduate program, and I just couldn’t believe that I wasn’t able to juggle all the work and books and somehow manage to keep this wimminz happy.

The first self-help book I bought was Robert Glover‘s No More Mr. Nice Guy, which featured an internet self-help forum. It was not long after reading this book that I:

a. broke up with troublemaking girlfriend, and

b. reconnected with my own father.

I don’t know, in hindsight, which was more difficult to do, but I’m incredibly grateful to the advice I got from Glover’s book, which helped me do both.

Around this time I found a number of “game” fora, which seemed like a melange of snake-oil salesmanship coupled with things which I had found obvious since I was a teenager. It would be later that I’d realize I had stumbled into my own knowledge of picking up skanks through a series of happy accidents (combined with a don’t care attitude as a kid, which allowed for experimentation.)

Around 2009 I started becoming interested in Roissy, largely because I outgrew my childish narcissism, and came to sympathize with the brothers who were too shy or autistic to do what I had been doing, namely just putting some crude moves on whatever skank I found attractive at the moment. Such men were deeply unhappy, and their struggles seemed to mirror men I knew in my daily life. After Roissy, I found Welmer’s Spearhead blog, and after this, I found Dalrock.

It was some time after finding the Dalrock blog that I found his work trolling Yahoo! Answers. Back in the day, wimminz would post tone-deaf idiocy on this aggregator, and Dalrock had a knack of dogwhistling them into line.

The author is probably one of the best rhetoriticians we have on our side, which made his site a draw for me.

When Dalrock Became Popular

The original question ys asked had a temporal dimension which is difficult to parse. Dalrock is objectively unpopular, compared even to bit players in pop culture. I’d estimate his regular readers as maybe 200 people, and there are probably no more than a couple of thousand people, worldwide, who have ever read his work. Even so, it’s an interesting question, and I’ll attempt to answer.

Through 2012 or so, Dalrock regularly poached some of the best contributors to The Spearhead and A Voice for Men, who regged in his comments section. This was sort of a golden age, in which everyone more-or-less got along.

Between 2012 and 2015, Dalrock started trolling various wolves in sheep’s clothing, including my old friend Sheila Gregoire.

Kooky Canadian Feminist

At this point, his comment section began really taking off. It also started becoming something less interesting and more imbued with groupthink. That was about the point when Cane Caldo pronounced his impotent little jihaad against Lyn87, and after this, he started going off on anyone who dared disagree with him. Eventually, Dalrock’s comments were overloaded with bile, largely written by Christians against anyone who didn’t purity-spiral themselves to heaven.

That was, not coincidentally, the point when I started this blog. I had earlier seen the dysfunction on various red pill blogs like iSteve and Roissy, and began to appreciate the linear function which seems to take hold as a blog gets more popular, and its comments get filled up with rabid yes-men and asslickers, who want to ride the coattails of better writers and thinkers. Originally, I thought I’d find a way to abate or rechannel this process, but I don’t know how to. What I’ve done with this blog is to ruthlessly cull new commenters who didn’t seem like a good fit, along with playing devil’s advocate with some of the strongest voices here (Derek, Feministhater, Sharkly…) Even when I agree with the groupthink, I don’t necessarily think it’s healthy to allow a monoculture to develop.

There were other incidents which increased his relative popularity, and these generally coincided with the author squabbling with some new population of malcontents. Dalrock gained a large number of readers in 2014, from trolling the goons over in the Atheism+ (pronounced atheismpoz) movement. You can see ya boy in the comments here…

Adam Lee’s Hysterical Campaign

In any case, I hope the story of my dance with Dalrock clarifies some general truths about blogging and popularity.

A brother named Joshua has started a blog, with the goal of motivating men of the androsphere to get up off their asses and do stuff in the real world. Given that actual activism is something that seems to almost* never happen, make sure and pop in there and show him your support.

—

*I’m aware that there are outliers. There’s a bit of social monkeywrenching by Fathers 4 Justice, and URL posting by The Fifth Horseman’s crew, but I don’t know of any other organized efforts in this direction, and they’re sorely needed.

I believe I first started reading Dalrock around 2009, and I’m pretty sure I started actively posting there a couple of years later. It’s been a great run, but Dalrock is retiring. I’m hoping that he doesn’t pull a Welmer, and burn the library as he wanders out of town. Friend and foe alike should post some thanks, if they are able, for the man who sharpened our arguments even as he flicked feminist ears.

Today’s stronk, empowered, heroic single mom is Rachel Henry, age 22. Skank-ho Rachel was the mother of three little babies, age 3, 1, and 0.5. She is now in the Maricopa County (Arizona) jailhouse, after the father of one of her kids phoned police and asked for help.

Details are fuzzy, and the feminist mass media isn’t helping, but here’s what I think happened.

Background: Bitch flees Oklahoma after authorities get tired of jailing her for her chronic use of illegal drugs. She goes to Arizona, and is helped by the father of one of her oldest kids. She sets up house on the property of his landscaping business. A few months go by, bitch gets bored, and decides to ice all of her children for giggles.

Last night: Bitch kills her 1-year old daughter first, by clapping her hands over mouth and nose, and suffocating the poor child.

Bitch then encountered resistance from her 3-year old son, who (for some reason) objected to mommy murdering his sister. Son phoned his father, who lived nearby, who came over with another one of his relatives.

Bitch explains that she was merely putting the little girl to sleep. Bitch then takes son into another room to “put him to sleep,” as his own dad is in the next room.

Bitch then brings out her infant child (who may or may not be the child of Arizona daddy) and kills the baby right in front of her in-laws.

This morning: Bitch laughs as she confesses all to cops.

While all the gory details have yet to be publicized, the moral of this story is clear. Allowing a meth addled slut to bear your children is a very bad idea. Read more at:

arizona(anti)family

daily fail

POSTSCRIPT: Scooped by Daily Stormer

I must really be getting soft in the misogyny game, given that the neo-nazi site Daily Stormer, run by Weev and Andrew Anglin, actually had a write-up on this crazy slut before I even heard of her.

While I’m sure I disagree with them on many important matters, I will compliment the rogues over at our rival publication, who have (unlike most race fetishists) recognized the danger posed by single mothers. Remember that if you decide to go comment at DS, to be a good neighbor and obey their rules. Tell ’em Boxer sent you.

Down below, our man Honeycomb nominates a wimminz named Celeste T. Christian as single mother of the year.

Why does this bitch deserve such an award? Let’s see how we can best honor skank-ho princess, based on the write-up in our dishonest feminist press…

A 21-year-old woman has been charged with trying to drown her 3-year-old son, days after posting on social media that he was dead.

Of course, wimminz’ intuition told the bitch that her baby was “already dead” days before she decided to drown him like a rat in the bathtub. Naturally, being a web-enabled skank, she had to post baby’s death notice on Tinder and Facebook and Snatch dot Com…

Chicago police said Celeste Christian left her son alone in the bathtub for 5 to 10 minutes on Sunday at her home in the South Shore neighborhood. When she returned, she found him floating limply on top of the water.

The boy was taken to Comer Children’s Hospital, where he remains in critical condition with water in his lungs.

Her baby is brain-dead, and will almost certainly have to be cared for, for the rest of his life, by social services workers, while his attacker gets all the sympathy she can handle.

What is most interesting (and what will come as absolutely no surprise to the readers of this blog) is the erasure of the man who originally ratted this bitch out. It was that little boy’s father, and he is curiously mentioned only as an afterthought in most of the mainstream press which carried the story.

Based on social trends and countless personal experiences, we can reconstruct a likely picture of what actually happened. This dog ugly bitch (miraculously) found some man to marry (or at least impregnate) her. As soon as he became inconvenient, she dumped him to cruise for strange dick in Chicago’s worst dive bars and nightclubs. I’m sure some faggot CONservative divorce court judge told him that he was only useful insofar as he kept paying bitch her monthly allowance.

Said father did all he could to keep track of his little boy, even if that was only to try and stalk her on the social media sites. The notice of baby’s death was probably as shocking as the news that his son wasn’t actually dead, and he wasn’t dead at all when the news broke.

The conservative/Christian inspired government has conspired with the liberal/feminist media to push the lie that men are violent, and wimminz are nurturing, and that children must always be awarded to their mothers in any separation. In fact, the opposite is often true.

Single mothers are the most dreadful plague ever to be visited on any society. They kill far more people than tuberculosis, gun violence, terrorism, ANTIFA, Nazi Skinheads, tornadoes, earthquakes, or military action. Single moms pose a direct threat to western civilization itself. Our misfortune will continue for as long as we allow these wimminz to continue their degenerate lifestyle.

A month ago, I updated this blog on my old friend LaQuan’da. I first met this beauty back in the late spring of this year, and by July I had devolved into becoming something of an orbiter. As I earlier reported, LaQuan’da made contact with a generic “I miss youuu” message which is typical of bed-hopping skanks, and which surprised me, since she did a great job convincing my dumb ass that she was the one-in-a-billion NAWALT “not that kinda gurllll” who might actually make someone a competent wife.

So, I went to dinner, and the predictable story unfolded. LaQuan’da copped to the fact that when she ghosted out on me, back in August, she had already been dating multiple men, of which I was the only one. She ended up settling in to fuck a gent who was:

• married (but separated, really, fo’ sho’, and truly, ya right)
• fired from his job as a school bus driver for being…
• addicted to prescription painkillers
• fucking any number of other hoez on the side.

I found her final complaint about this guy to be sorta silly, given that she’s been doing the same things, so I interrupted my date to chuckle and point out that

“this is the man you rejected me for, is that not so?”

at which point the poor dear began to shed tears and pose a scene in the restaurant, so I quit making jokes, and just sat and listened to her spill her tales of woe.

While all wimminz are more skillful liars and manipulators than we can ever be, this particular wimminz is such a cunning actress that she strikes me as downright dangerous. Her theatrics are imbued with a wonderful authenticity, and woe be it to the brother who marries her, only to find himself at the end of a divorce action, complete with all manner of phony allegations of marital misconduct, delivered to the courts in such a convincing manner.

Now the reasons I took a month to post this article are varied, but mostly because I wanted to keep waxing that ass for a while. In the interim, I wanted to see and study all the various ways in which I was fooled by this bitch. I’ve learned a great deal, but there are a number of observations I can make many of which I’ve probably made before, but which bear repeating:

• Roissy’s tired maxim that orbiters never get the ass is not true, and this is a great example. The spirit of Roissy’s maxim, may be valuable all the same. It took me a great deal of effort to pluck this ripe fruit, and while I’ve had a very good time, the overall profit isn’t very large.
• Wimminz do not love evil men, but they do love weak men, who they can control and manipulate. Who is more easily controlled than a jobless drug addict whose wife is on this wimminz’ speed dial? This is the reason a wimminz will ignore a decent fella, in favor of writing erotica and sending it to death-row prisoners.
• The simp tendency is very powerful in a man, and it should never be underestimated. I have been regularly at war with myself for the past five weeks, resisting the temptation to let this unrepentant skank-ho bitch move in, just because the sex is so good, and because she says so many of the right things.

There are three things that help me keep things in context. The first is the fact that I’m presently fucking two other females. The second is the absolute knowledge that to her, I am a rebound, and this will end the minute she finds another weak man she can toy with. The last is the spectre of this blog, and the notion that I might have to be held accountable to all of you, my readers, for getting sucked beyond this woman’s fantastic, deplorable event-horizon, and going down to destruction.

I’ve fucked her, and the sex is absolutely as good as I ever dreamed it would be. I’ve kissed her thighs and sucked her nipples. I’ve licked her cunt and asshole. I can even say that I love her… in a way. She has that magical ability to morph into whatever I’ve always wished for in a lifelong mate, and to play the part to perfection. The red sun of desire (and decision) burns brightly, but it won’t burn forever.

American females, particularly hardened White and Black feminist wimminz, are quick to celebrate their victory over patriarchy and civilization, but their celebratory rantings don’t ever seem to touch upon how the typical empowered sister copes with reality.

Wimminz are increasingly binge-drinking themselves to death.

Fables about beautiful women who will become good wives are regularly debunked here, and in the interest of complete honesty and self-criticism, I’m prepared to tell my readers about one of the clever wimminz who came disturbingly close to catching ya boy in her fishtrap.

Back in July, I talked about her briefly, in a comment, here:

I met a woman recently (may or may not be a wimminz, but she’s doing a good job luring me with the illusion that she is decent). Long legs, very nice figure, keeps fit, African-American, great bubble ass, hair is not weaved out, but is not butch cut either – six inch braids in her fro. She speaks nicely, dresses modestly, no skank-ho tatts, claims to be a virgin (and for once, I think I believe her), Catholic and wants Boxer to do RCIA and quit being a male skank-ho slut if he’s serious about dating her…

In August, said hot black chick suddenly disappeared after much doting. Such is the way things always go… until two weeks ago, when she suddenly reappeared. She has been desperate to meet up with my ass for several days, and has been sending fawning texts nearly every morning to that effect.

While I had assumed that she got bored of waiting for me to commit, her immediate eruption into the status-quo suggests something much more interesting, and carnal.

I’m meeting her in a few hours for lunch. In the interim, can anyone predict the future-past and tell me what Shaniqua has been up to? I’m sure one of you boys can divine it. My guess is encoded in the title to this article. Either way, I look forward to a very entertaining afternoon.

As a proud male feminist, I have accepted the fact that my masculinity is something to be ashamed of, and that all my actions are irrelevant, given that all men are rapists.

Down below, Heidi nominates a woman named Brittany Pilkington, as this month’s feminist hero. What did our proud sister Brittany do? She exercised her “right to choose,” and retroactively aborted her three young sons, one after another.

Why did our hero do the deed? Let’s hear her tell it…

Do not conflate “Kim” here with the last chick, who finally took the hint at some point yesterday, and quit responding to my endless flaking. This is a new Tinder slut, desperate to land a chump in time for Christmas morning.

For the record, every woman I string along has a number of common qualities. I am only fucking with women who have already divorced a good man and stolen his children. Not that this makes me any more noble, but I do have some standards.

Older dogs who socialize with us, in the 45-60 range, should consider setting up a phony profile (you can easily get a pic here) and join me in trolling the 20-something divorcée crowd. It’s fun, you know you want to, and they deserve it.