Nothing like a provocative title.
The more life you live, as a man who gives a fuck about life and the world, the more you come up against the insidious, horrific, vile actions of the “lower feminine” energy that Bill Donahue talks about. But what I would rather call, straight out, women.
A comment on my last big post helped to snap me out of it, a bit. A guy recounted that his mother got her jollies from making him suffer and become a bit more fucked-up. And thought, yeah, I can relate to that.
See, the Bible is an esoteric book. It calls attention to the wonders within the self, and that salvation can only be obtained from within. It is written in a coded form, symbology, so that the fucking stupid can’t figure it out. And women are, as it happens, the fucking stupid.
But these days, men have been made even lower than women. They have been so debased and abused that their lives are barely worth living anymore.
Well I would like to see a return of men. I would like to see them rise up and push the “strange woman” back underground.
And I’m coming from a place of a particularly hedonistic sort. I’ve spent two decades getting drunk and chasing skirt. And finally - finally – I’m beginning to learn.
Women are not only not to be trusted. That much is obvious enough. But they are evil. Truly evil. All of them.
But, you may say, some are good, right? Are you just one of those women haters?
Yes. I am a woman hater. But I was a woman lover, or so I thought, for a very long time. Not in the sense that I was a feminist (one article for the prosecution of women, right there!), but in the sense that I believed that to live a good, constructive, and full life, one should enjoy the company of beautiful women as often as possible. Preferably mingled with wine, and song. And maybe a little dancing, on their part, anyway.
In the last post on Cybele I was still a little under the spell of John Lash. He’s eloquant, and his analysis of Parzival was quite interesting for me (and by the way its interesting that Parzival’s mother was who led him astray, and that one of her horseshit rules for him which led him astray was to “respect all women”) . But his adoration of Sophia is of course luciferian, and his juvenile giggling blatherings about taking drugs with some new age femcunt so he could see the organic light of Sophia (duuuuude) just repulsed me. So too his mummy’s boy war party, where he suggests we all conjure magic death spells to, I don’t know, pop a magic cap in Bill Gates’ ass, or something. Nonsense.
And then, in a final recent altercation with the mother of my son, it came to me.
Women are to be scorned. Beaten the fuck down.
Do I mean physical violence? Not necessarily. I think that men, real men, should have nothing to do with them at all. Or very little.
Just imagine women trying to get by without men. Kind of makes you chuckle.
Bloggers in the “manosphere” like Roissy have been pinpointing that the root of all evil in this world is the pedestalisation of pussy. Which as I’ve shown on this blog is personified by Cybele-Diana-Lucifer.
But what about having children, I hear you say. And I say, first you want to live in a world worth bringing children into. and to do that, you want first to birth the children withjn. I mean this in very concrete terms. I mean preserving your essence, knowing how to breathe. Knowing how to get stronger, truly.
My son is beautiful, and predictably he’s in the clutches of a woman who I despise. I’m taking steps to put myself in a better position, so I can pick him up again down the line.
Janus got a gun
So yes, it’s my current feeling that the Strange Woman of the Bible is all women outside of yourself. I feel that we have a woman within, and she is everything we need. She’s the perineum, where a woman’s vagina would be. She’s the prostate, the man’s anal g-spot. She’s the pineal gland, that the pituitary gland floods with milk, and then it’s Christmas within, we get all goodies.
But “outer women”? Their vaginas are the gates to hell. And that’s all they have.
So let’s look at the Bible, shall we?
Proverbs 5:3-23King James Version (KJV)
3 For the lips of a strange woman drop as an honeycomb, and her mouth is smoother than oil:
4 But her end is bitter as wormwood, sharp as a two-edged sword.
5 Her feet go down to death; her steps take hold on hell.
6 Lest thou shouldest ponder the path of life, her ways are moveable, that thou canst not know them.
7 Hear me now therefore, O ye children, and depart not from the words of my mouth.
8 Remove thy way far from her, and come not nigh the door of her house: [her vagina]
9 Lest thou give thine honour unto others, and thy years unto the cruel:
10 Lest strangers be filled with thy wealth; and thy labours be in the house of a stranger;
11 And thou mourn at the last, when thy flesh and thy body are consumed,
12 And say, How have I hated instruction, and my heart despised reproof;
13 And have not obeyed the voice of my teachers, nor inclined mine ear to them that instructed me! [the inner teachers. inspiration, gut instinct, intuition, self-interpretation of symbols, self-referenced]
14 I was almost in all evil in the midst of the congregation and assembly. [how much this sounds like the world we know]
15 Drink waters out of thine own cistern, and running waters out of thine own well. [now we’re getting solutions]
16 Let thy fountains be dispersed abroad, and rivers of waters in the streets.
17 Let them be only thine own, and not strangers' with thee.
18 Let thy fountain be blessed: and rejoice with the wife of thy youth.
19 Let her be as the loving hind and pleasant roe; let her breasts satisfy thee at all times; and be thou ravished always with her love.
20 And why wilt thou, my son, be ravished with a strange woman, and embrace the bosom of a stranger?
21 For the ways of man are before the eyes of the Lord, and he pondereth all his goings.
22 His own iniquities shall take the wicked himself, and he shall be holden with the cords of his sins.
23 He shall die without instruction; and in the greatness of his folly he shall go astray.
Strong stuff, don’t you think?
I actually cried when I read line 9 again.
And can you imagine the scornful face of a woman, hearing that? Like, you fucking pussy, you cried? Ugh.
Either that, or the fake, awwwwww. Like I’m a little fucking puppy dog saying something of no consequence.
Now, when I first read this stuff, some years back, I wondered what the hell is it talking about. Like, is this some gay shit? The “patriarchs” hating women because they like anus instead?
No. This is the reason monks forsook women, and went and brewed beer together, and made gold out of piss. And wrote beautiful tracts on the inner essence of life.
Because women are evil; indeed the only way of evil in the world. And to pursue them is to pursue the strange woman. Notice “strange”? Or outside of oneself?
Your TRUE “wife” is your LIFE. Your life of YOUTH. When do you have that? When you learn the techniques, the inner ways, that allow you to cultivate joy and strength. To stack strength on strength. Build the body with breath and the inner naturally occurring juices.
The lesson is so in-your-face, such plain sight, that yet again I have been – though gratefully – made to feel like an idiot. Everywhere you look, women are the cause of misery. Women, and mummy’s boys with anus-and-vagina badges. Left unchecked, they would have every man retarded, conditioned, enslaved, eking out grovelling useless tasks on a thankless humiliating hamster wheel, dissipating their inner vitality and joy and strength until death comes as blessed relief.
The New World Order? It’s women. “The Illuminati”? It’s women.
And it’s womanly men too, and that’s coming up in a post I’m still working on. But I wanted to fill in a little stop-gap by stating in the strongest possible terms what I suspect every man knows, who’s lived a day in his life.
A man has to pursue his OWN happiness. The second he puts a woman’s “happiness” (they can’t be happy) anywhere on his priorities, he’s lost.
Women, the outer women, are to be spurned and scorned at every turn. They should not be heard. They should retreat into the foul corners of the world from which they sprang, and whisper squawking obscenities to each other as they rot, unsung and unloved, unto death.
Yes, they should be brutalised too. This thing is already brutal, and it would be better for most men to have never been born, that’s how bad the world is. For there is no point in going to war against another man, ever. It is needless, for even the basest man will dig his own grave. A young woman on the other hand, comely and teasing, she represents what it says in “Jennifers body”, that hell is a teenage girl. She’ll not only lure you with her “hell’s gate”, but she’ll make you sacrifice everything, everything, just to get a peek at it.
The outer woman Cybele threatens the Inner Woman, the Woman at the Well.
The late Patrice O’Neal used to say that women’s power is in what you let them do, or in the fear of what you’ll let them do. And he railed against women so powerfully that his body gave up and he died young. Just for a second I’m going to assume it wasn’t just his character that was killed off, as with so many actors and comedians. And despite the fact I’ve seen him throw out those little Cybele-Band hand signals. He nonetheless said a lot of what needs to be said. But I’ve come to the point where I disagree with one of the major tenets. He said, pussy is important, but not special.
I say, pussy is important and special. And not in a good way.
You cannot be righteous and love women. You cannot be righteous and have a woman living in the same place as you. Her presence, her malevolent energy –in your house? No thanks.
However, in your biblical house, as in the woman within you? Her you can hang with. And she’ll be everything you ever wished a woman can be. A well of nurturing goodness. She will caress you when you’re troubled. She will dry your tears.
An outer woman? She’ll use these occasions, when you’re low, to destroy you a little more.
Is this a bitter, angry treatise? Fuck yes! And I’m offering reasons, solid, fucking eternal reasons, esoteric and exoteric, which I’m standing in righteous indignation. And I’m also saying there are solutions. And that life can be beautiful, once again. When men are taught to be men. Only thing is, it takes a man to educate a wannabe man. And you’re not going to get that with fucking Socrates, Blavatsky, fucking Plato. The foundation of our current Vaginaworld. Stop listening to women. Period. And yeah, there’s a pun in there, somewhere.
Men are in pain, and suffering, all over the world. I’m here to tell you uit deosnt have to be like this. You have to feel your pain, take ownership of it. When it comes, relax and breathe deep, and let the pain do it’s work, put roots down, get stronger, more righteous, tense in the right directions.
And nurture yourself with love. Yes, "wanking." That mummy’s boy insult, about another dude being a “wanker”, like the other man’s body is any of his fucking business. Yes, wank, but don’t ejaculate. Learn to control the flow, press the perineum, let the juices go back into your body and give your youth and THAT is your life, your "wife."
Saliva too, what the taoists call the jade nectar. Even urine – it’s miraculous for burns and stuff on the skin. But your sex juices are the true treasure, and you have all you need.
And the one thing that women have to offer – the only thing they have to offer – is the opportunity for you to lose those precious fluids. Yes, you can fuck them and not come. I’ve been doing that for a while. And yes, according to taoists, the man can actually benefit from that, can take back a little from the women, in fact both will benefit.
But I think really you have to have a world in which women are reduced to the place they should be – begging for men’s attention, like starving dogs hoping for scraps but also fearing for their lives. Only then should the gates of hell be breached, but do it righteously.
Brutal, yes. As I’ve said, this is the only brutality that men should nurture. It’s like a muscle you need to exercise. Men can kill animals for food, and will always feel a little sadness about it. But in dealing with women, remember they are not like us. Without any irony whatsoever, I can say they are like The Terminator. It doesn’t feel fear, or remorse, or pity. And it will not stop, ever – until you are dead.
Fuck women. Or rather, don’t.