Good Boy or Bad Man?

A Final Attempt at Explaining Good Women to Bad Men: Part 1 of 3

I have failed, utterly, to bring numerous autistic men to an understanding that women are different creatures than we are on a fundamental level—though I would think this obvious at a  glance. I think that the basis for this utter failure on my part is that I have not properly addressed the Real World from the Utopian World with the mind of the Autiste. Look, I don't know what autistic even is. However, many of these men I have in mind have described themselves, often half-joking, as afflicted by this condition, which I do not understand in the least. Indeed, this condition is something I never even heard of until age 30.

The five men I know, and the many readers who have contacted me with questions about women, seem rather to me, unqualified clinician that I am, to be afflicted, in their failure to grasp what women are, by one of two, and in the worst cases, both of the following:

-1. Idealization of women as paragons of virtue and desire, best expressed in the fiction of Edgar Rice Burroughs as the princess complex, explained by bad men as vaginal authority.

-2. Denigration of women as the intellectually and/or morally inferior half of the human race.

Often, a boy and youth who held to the first view of women above, upon collision with his media-induced and single-mother implanted delusions of womanhood with reality, adopts view 2 as an embittered stance. Both views above prevent a true understanding of the female nature.

These men I know all cling tenaciously to the Utopian World of Should and reject the Real World of Is as an abomination. They are idealists, not realists. So, If the reader has yet to understand women and finds them a great mystery, or if he regards himself as having attained a comprehensive understanding of women—and is therefore adjudged by all of the gods and men of Posterity to be  a hopeless fool, beyond the reach of reason—I will make this final attempt to show you Reality, in the hopes of piercing the veil of fantasy, before going on to a practical reading of womankind.  

By almost every real, actual, current, Anglophone, secularized and traditional Christian, American measure, I am a bad man, a reprobate, a lurking Cain to the many Abels who are only alive on God's Green Earth because the all-seeing eye of the police state has relegated me to hobodom. People who know me, many people who I have lived with, will claim this is untrue. But to the world I am evil for the very real facts that:

-1. I do not have a paymaster.

-2. I do not owe a scheduled debt.

-3. I do not apologize for being born as the evil absence of color.

-4. I am not attached, legally and financially, to a woman as her housebound man, or husband.

-5. I do not worship women, homos, Dark Lords, trannies, etc.

-6. I have defended myself against my Dark Lords, not once, but many times, and openly characterize my Dark Lords as men rather than living martyr gods and even refer to them as my “hereditary foes” which they are, having chased every member of my extended family from the city of my birth by violence.

The first four items bring suspicion upon me. The final one is a deal breaker. For even those who do not follow (5) as a sacred value, like those I discuss in the next paragraph, do not trust a man who would live 38 years among those who hate him and hunt him. There is also the baseline American distrust of any man willing to physically defend himself rather than calling the police or, more responsibly, calling a realtor and buying a rural mansion. The fact that I was content to defend myself with fists, wits and a blade when I could have simply bent the knee to the holy American Trinity of the Bank Almighty and the Boss His Son and the Holy Wife, made me an obvious heathen.

Last year, I sat about a fire with a friend and his Christian relatives in the Rockies. The young men, accompanied by their mother and maternal grandfather, who was a decorated law officer with some 40 years of service, sought to determine if I was a man that their teenage sons could be trusted with on a hike up the mountain. I was indicted on the first five crimes against America, and convicted on the last, for having failed to bend the knee. These people all looked like pure, blonde, blue-eyed versions of me.

Now, if you see your own internal views on the world among any of those 6 indictments above, then you are that many parts evil in the total of your person. I am totally evil by the current definition. In ancient ways, such as my willingness to give what little I have to friends, to be kind to children, to look men of different kinds in the eye and give a greeting of respect rather than scurrying or strutting or posturing or kneeling, I might seem a good man. But these are according to old and overturned standards of behavior.

I have been roundly admonished by many fellow adults that my kindness to children is ill-service to them and to God, that he who spares the rod spoils the child.

By treating black men as equals, I have been told many times, that my sensitivity to their unique plight is lacking, that there is an ancient debt that must be paid and my nods of masculine respect is a backhanded slap against that ancient debt. On this point I am scorned by Utopians of Should as well, for not deriding blacks as inferior.

In any case, and as reflected by thousands of vagrancy statutes across this great and evil nation, Americans do not trust men who do not have a master [a singular or corporate boss or a collective of clients in the marketplace] and trust even less he who is not actively in debt and owning a high credit rating.

The facts that I walked away from a house in 2000, walked away from a wife in 2002 and abruptly quit my last two jobs in 2010 and 2017 make me a vicious heretic, a blasphemer against Almighty Dollar, an apostate refusing to kiss Uncle Sam's index finger, a barbarian who has unbent the knee to his Shimmering Queen, perfect in Her radiance—Civilization, who I further affront by naming Whore.

Why this focus on my poor qualities?

Because, although women in the main have less analytical ability, and lack for reason enough to escape the purgatory of emotion for the refuge of reason—they have better instincts then men, as a general rule.

My wife was about as smart as a box of rocks. But she knew stuff at a glance that I had to discover the hard way, like that I was a sucker for instance, a man easy to shame, eager to please and willing to work harder for simple approval than any slave ever toiled for a cruel master. At a glance, on our first date, she took my measure and enslaved me like a siren of silence for 20 years. I broke free of that prison 20 years ago. However, the price was to affront the world, to declare by stages that what the world held good, I cared not a bit for, in other words, to fall from Good Boy to Bad Man.

Did you know that one of the most successful science fiction writers, and arguably the most successful founder of religion, in American history, L. Ron Hubbard, had as the main character in his bestselling Battlefield Earth saga, Johnny [dimunitive] “Good Boy” [boy means slave] Taylor?

No one had  a better reading of the psychology of late 20th Century America than Hubbard.

So, before going to Part Two, 'The Magic,' it is important that you identify yourself as either good or bad.

If you are good, then you will sneer at what I have just written and decline to read Part 2.

If, however, you find yourself in agreement with any of my above anti-American flaws, you should realize that most every woman will sense this about you instinctively. If so, not all is lost. Women are attracted to bad boys for the very reason that they have an instinct for survival that informs them that their instinct for social acceptance has a perilous downside. See, if against all odds [the female subconscious tells her] the world turns out to be a bad place and not the bright shining British garden party she has been taught it is, then a bad man may be needed.  

Indeed, that above sentiment is the foundation of almost all adventure fiction and movies. This is why women have a hard time respecting the good men that they select for, because they know instinctively, that they are chumps. This is also why I like sluts, because they recognize their internal contradiction. But, as stated in the subtitle, this is not about the type of woman I have come to prefer, but about good women of the type that the reader might raise a family with.

In Part 2 there will be no advice about not belching, clearing your throat or wearing WWII Waffen SS camo-pattern military attire when visiting female households, just a reminder that all mixed gender homes are held by the woman and that her standards of social intercourse carry far more weight than whatever her husband thinks. Keep in mind that this woman, this mate of your friend, is your single best chance at finding a mother for your children. The best way to gain acceptance among women is not the society of your brothers, but the approval of their sisters.