Wednesday, July 5, 2017

Hell Hath No Fury

Everything is being pulled in a million directions at once. A single trend taken to its logical or projected conclusion may end up being wrong. For instance, the pending population explosion of Africa rests in part on the assumption that food and space will always be available. What if the West runs out of money? What if after the 68ers die off, the borders are shut? I cannot say any more than you, although I will say that the fatalism of certain camps is.... annoying.

That's neither here nor there.

From the New York Post: Punk rock ISIS widow wants to go home.
You can tell she's the sort of person that, like, really challenges systems of oppression and stuff.
Pretty lulzy. Sally Jones, who also goes by the nom de guerre Umma Hussain al Britani, is apparently a former punk rocker and "benefits mother". What is particularly lulzy is that Jones, the sort of person from the sort of camp that resents the patriarchy of White men abandoned the West for the free and exhilarating life as... an Arab's wife. A jihadi, no less.

The fate of our intrepid Huwhyte Jihadette is irrelevant, but I raise half a glass to the vaguely amusing thought of this weeping widow meeting her end the same way as her husband went: Scattered across the barren landscape of Outremer, mourned only by desert tribalists with room temperature IQs.

The aging visage of Sally Jones did give me pause, however. She looks strikingly similar to a number of rather silly White women I have met over the years - particularly in college. When we were younger, and when they did not bear the telltale signs of hyper-hedonism, the free-spirited "liberated" women I knew had a certain charm about them. They were fun to drink with, fun to chase, etc.

Alas, time is a crueler mistress than the most fickle woman. I, your humble wordsmith, happen to have access to the nearly unlimited credit line my White-Male-Heterosexual Privilege Card™ grants me, whereas my former paramores, regrettably, do not. Really, staying active, regulating my alcohol consumption and maintaining a balanced diet have helped me stave off the early signs of aging that have long since pushed the girls I used to know to the outer edges of the sexual market. What is darkly amusing about the girls I used to know is that, like a fat girl browsing the 'petite' section of some retail chain, most of them are completely blind to the depreciation in value their lifestyles have wreaked upon the only part of them that really matters: Their bodies. I have it on good information that a number of these girls are still pushing lines of cocaine (or what they've been told was cocaine) up their noses on the regular, God bless their souls. And by good information, I mean Snapchat.

Occasionally it dawns on one of them that something somewhere went horribly wrong, but I've never had any of them articulate with any reasonable degree of precision what that something might be. No, I am not exactly expecting a woman to trot out some stylized Moldbugian rhetoric precisely explaining how they exchanged family formation for cocks and careerism, but the best I've gotten from the handful I've seen descend into tears is this vague understanding that they are unhappy. Maybe in a decade when 40 is fast approaching they'll be able to articulate it better, like this unfortunate wench, who I'm linking to for a second time now. It never gets old, but to be honest, the article is a brutal let down compared to the low effort 4chan memes making fun of this poor soul. There certainly is an element of "serves you right" that comes with reading this article. There are several others I've read over the past few years, with one particularly haunting suicide from a cute 29 year old who feared she would die alone and childless (and so she did). But because I am not in the MRA camp and do not have the requisite bitterness towards women that the incel life grants to many young men, there is a strong element of sadness that comes with reading about troubled women, not to mention seeing it in the flesh.

Whatever sympathies I may have for former career girls who belatedly realize that money and promotions is far less satisfying than continuing the family line, I have no sympathy to offer those who have become particularly deranged:

Swedish social workers are apparently banging their refugee clients.

It all makes sense now, doesn't it? I think others have commented at length about this peculiar revelation, so instead of rehashing that, I offer you this:

Steve Sailer has made a pretty big to-do about the projected population explosion of Africa. In all fairness to Steve, the pressing matter of Africa's practically exponentially increasing population should concern everyone who doesn't want their countries overrun by the sort of people who can't make their own function. I'll leave that arena to Steve, who has a far greater reach than most of us ever will.

That said, there is another sort of population explosion, or really demographic explosion, headed down the pipes. With the rise of career girls, there will eventually be a rapid increase in the number of lonely white women. In fact, I suspect that the occasional "I left the love of my life and now regret it because I'm 40 and the dating pool is slim" articles are the early tip of that iceberg. Like my former paramores, Millennial generation women may one day wake up, look in a mirror and gasp in horror at their self-made doom.

What then? Surely it is no great loss to Whites that the sort of Whites who don't particularly care for White heritage are lost to genetic oblivion, but that's a far longer term observation. Will they go quietly into the night, flee to the convents, or will we end up like Sweden, where aging feminists have resorted to harvesting refugee clients so they can get some dick, now that they're old and Swedish-Swedes no longer pay any attention to them? How much of the short sighted Swedish social workers' sexual behavior is explicitly in the vein of "fuck you dad"? And will that sort of thing ever show up here?

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